<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230</id><updated>2012-03-02T12:23:32.775-06:00</updated><category term='Thoughts'/><category term='The Mike Show'/><category term='Who I am'/><category term='Current Events'/><category term='Lists'/><category term='Politics'/><title type='text'>One Ring Circus</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>90</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2596967632410875817</id><published>2010-12-13T09:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T09:50:05.492-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>What The World Needs Now</title><content type='html'>Living in the midwest, I and many others experienced yesterday 40 mile an hour winds,&amp;nbsp;blowing and blinding snow, below freezing weather, a dangerous driving&amp;nbsp;environment and basically&amp;nbsp;blizzard like conditions all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having to be out in the weather driving for a portion of the day I noticed how everyone on the road looked out for each other. After all, we were all in this situation together. People were friendly and helpful to their neighbor and there was peace and good will - at least on the roads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During all of this, race, religion and political views were never an issue. It was just one day of helping&amp;nbsp;our fellow man without making judgements or having opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the world needs a good old-fashioned snow storm to remind us that we're all in this together and hatred,&amp;nbsp;war and gridlock&amp;nbsp;is not good or helpful&amp;nbsp;to anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2596967632410875817?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2596967632410875817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2596967632410875817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2596967632410875817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2596967632410875817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-world-needs-now.html' title='What The World Needs Now'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6926565900270048170</id><published>2010-12-08T21:08:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T21:24:19.329-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>John Lennon, My Life And Time Gone By</title><content type='html'>Thirty years ago tonight, John Lennon was murdered outside his home and I was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked for Leo Antiques on 2190 Broadway which was about eight blocks from the Dakota where the Lennons lived. Leo is no longer with us and the store has since closed, but every December the second floor of Leo's&amp;nbsp;turned into the largest Christmas store in New York City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day thirty years ago, my boss, Leo, had flyers made out and my job was to go through the neighborhood putting them in doors to try to attract business. My last stop of the day was the Dakota. I knew that John Lennon lived there as well as Gilda Radner and Leonard Bernstein, so I took my time while in the building to try to catch a glimse of a celebrity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day instead of going to my normal hang-out - the Dublin House on 79th street, I decided to go one block from the Dakota to a bar on 72nd street for a few drinks. As I was leaving, several police cars and an ambulance raced past me and stopped at the Dakota. I thought about turning around, but since sirens were pretty common in New York I decided to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home I heard on the radio that John Lennon had been shot outside the Dakota and I soon realized that those police cars and the ambulance were for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone knows the importance&amp;nbsp;of John Lennon's music and I can't&amp;nbsp;contribute anything better than what's already been written about him and his death.&amp;nbsp;All I&amp;nbsp;know is that&amp;nbsp;every year at this time I&amp;nbsp;find myself&amp;nbsp;thrown back into my youth and am reminded of a person&amp;nbsp;who's&amp;nbsp;time on this Earth&amp;nbsp;was cut way too short and then find myself questioning my own life and where it has gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6926565900270048170?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6926565900270048170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6926565900270048170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6926565900270048170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6926565900270048170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/12/john-lennon-my-life-and-time.html' title='John Lennon, My Life And Time Gone By'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7265568908272291357</id><published>2010-12-03T13:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T08:28:08.156-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Thanks For Your Loyalty, Mister Santo</title><content type='html'>When I think of my childhood, I think of Ron Santo. This goes way back to the 1960's when a neighbor boy asked me if I was a Cubs fan or a Cardinal fan. I had always been a fan of&amp;nbsp;Baseball and didn't know I had to choose sides - something I still don't understand. Anyway,&amp;nbsp;I couldn't give my friend an instant answer, so&amp;nbsp;I told him I would sleep on it and get back to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that since the Cubs were from Chicago and I lived in Illinois, then I would be loyal to my state, so I proudly told my friend that I was a Chicago Cubs fan. And now some&amp;nbsp;four decades later I remain one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cubs had&amp;nbsp;some pretty good&amp;nbsp;players back then,&amp;nbsp;which included&amp;nbsp;three future hall of famers and one guy that played just as good, but for some reason or another never quite made it into&amp;nbsp;that exclusive club. That player, of course, was Ron Santo and his sixty decade love for his team is what inspired me most about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me,&amp;nbsp;Mister Santo was more than just&amp;nbsp;a good ballplayer and passionate announcer.&amp;nbsp;Instead, I looked at him as an&amp;nbsp;embassador of loyalty. In this day and age of "me first," it was always nice to look at&amp;nbsp;a man who sincerely cared about&amp;nbsp;an orgainization&amp;nbsp;that gave him his start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us can learn a lot from&amp;nbsp;Ron Santo's&amp;nbsp;loyalty. And not just for our favorite sports team, for it goes much deeper than that. It starts with the people that shaped us into who we are today like teachers, family members, spouses,&amp;nbsp;mentors, bosses&amp;nbsp;and the list goes on and on. It's important that we remember these things and&amp;nbsp;sad that it often takes death to remind us of what really matters. Thanks, Mister Santo, for&amp;nbsp;when I think of your life, it&amp;nbsp;gets me&amp;nbsp;back on course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7265568908272291357?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7265568908272291357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7265568908272291357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7265568908272291357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7265568908272291357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/12/thanks-for-your-loyalty-mister-santo.html' title='Thanks For Your Loyalty, Mister Santo'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6560375037327244712</id><published>2010-12-01T10:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T10:50:11.069-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Overcoming Disappointment Through An Unlikely Source</title><content type='html'>There are times&amp;nbsp;in life when we have to&amp;nbsp;face disappointment. This can take on many forms. Sometimes it's in the guise of a family member or friend. Other times&amp;nbsp;disappointment can be&amp;nbsp;related to work or even play. All of these frustrations eventually work themselves out either by moving on or accepting the way things are with the person or problem that has you disillusioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, one of the hardest obstacles to overcome is when we feel disappointed in ourselves. Often it's something we said or did, or&amp;nbsp;didn't say or do. Other times it's looking at the so called&amp;nbsp;success of our peers and feeling a sense of failure or incompleteness within our own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When this happens, we sometimes find ourselves fighting these feelings of self disappointment&amp;nbsp;with denial or justification or give into it completely by going into depression&amp;nbsp;or self doubt. These are all natural feelings, but ultimately time wasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way to learn about and overcome disappointment is through baseball. Yes, I said baseball. Look at the facts. The best hitters in the game get out seventy percent of the time. What's more important, though, is that they get&amp;nbsp;chance after chance&amp;nbsp;to redeem themselves. A batter could strike out three times in a row, but still has&amp;nbsp;the opportunity&amp;nbsp;to&amp;nbsp;win the game with a home run. Just like real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person&amp;nbsp;is like baseball.&amp;nbsp;They&amp;nbsp;can go from goat to hero with just one swing. However, the secret is to keep on&amp;nbsp;swinging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6560375037327244712?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6560375037327244712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6560375037327244712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6560375037327244712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6560375037327244712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/12/overcoming-disappointment-through.html' title='Overcoming Disappointment Through An Unlikely Source'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8897927627152865011</id><published>2010-11-24T14:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T14:37:13.139-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Meat Eating Vegetarian</title><content type='html'>I am not a vegetarian, but I could easily become one because I actually like and eat&amp;nbsp;vegetarian dishes more than meat ones. The only thing keeping me from banning meat&amp;nbsp;from my diet is the fact that I like the occasional hamburger and I prefer meat in my lasagna. In fact, I love these two dishes so much that I can honestly say that being a vegetarian is not in my future. I'm also aware of the protein that meat provides and have no time or interest in finding alternative ways to get that protein in my diet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sub consciously I think many people think the way I do. Face it, when you're at a gathering and pizza is ordered, it always seems like the chesse or the pizza with the vegetable toppings go first. Likewise at a buffet. There always seems to be meat left at the end of the meal, but the vegetables?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people dismiss vegetarians as crack pots or politically correct trouble makers, but the bottom line is that their food is not only good for you, but it also happens to be&amp;nbsp;delicious. I wish that more meat eaters would open their minds to vegetarian eating, for its much more than nibbling on carrots and eating salad and nuts. Much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way to discover the wonderful world&amp;nbsp;of this misunderstood dining choice is to either have a vegetarian cook for you or go to a vegetarian restuarant. You will discover that what you thought you knew, you really don't know at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8897927627152865011?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8897927627152865011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8897927627152865011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8897927627152865011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8897927627152865011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/11/meat-eating-vegetarian.html' title='Meat Eating Vegetarian'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7379243790381384686</id><published>2010-07-15T10:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T14:52:55.181-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>My Conversation With Diane Keaton</title><content type='html'>Having been an actor in New York City in the late 1970's I had an occasional brush with the rich and famous. My acting career was nothing to brag about and&amp;nbsp;many of these celebrity&amp;nbsp;encounters happened&amp;nbsp;during my day job working in a pawn shop on Broadway.&amp;nbsp;From Dr. Ruth to Caroll Spinney (Big Bird), Madonna to&amp;nbsp;Tony Randall,&amp;nbsp;John Lithgow&amp;nbsp;to soap stars Michael Zazlow, Clint Richie,&amp;nbsp;Cindy Pickett&amp;nbsp;and Jerry verDorn,&amp;nbsp;they (and many others)&amp;nbsp;passed through our doors at a regular pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually pretty common to see&amp;nbsp;celebrities in New York City. A lot of them live there because they can lead somewhat normal lives without fans&amp;nbsp;bothering them wherever they go. They can do normal things and fit into life like everyone else. And that's exactly what Diane Keaton was doing on the night we met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate and I were walking down the street and discovered this bowling alley on Amsterdam Ave. We lived near by and didn't know it was there, so we&amp;nbsp;decided to check it out. To our surprise it was pretty crowded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They&amp;nbsp;sat us in this lane right next to another couple, so we had to share the area that held the bowling balls. It turns out that couple was Diane Keaton and the actor Bob Balaban (Close Encounters of the Third Kind).&amp;nbsp;My roommate and I&amp;nbsp;minded our own business and&amp;nbsp;Ms. Keaton and Mr. Balaban&amp;nbsp;minded theirs, although it was pretty hard not to stare, especially after Diane Keaton would throw a cutter ball - which she did several times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point I was seated right next to her. And that's when it happened. She turned to me and said, "I'm terrible". I responded by saying, "No, you're not".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lied. My only conversation with Diane Keaton and I lied. Sorry, Diane. I hope you understand. I just didn't have the nerve to tell you that you sucked at bowling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that was the extent of our conversation. It's something I know she has long forgotten, but I'll always cherish that night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7379243790381384686?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7379243790381384686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7379243790381384686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7379243790381384686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7379243790381384686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-conversation-with-diane-keaton.html' title='My Conversation With Diane Keaton'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8340718932997443435</id><published>2010-02-10T13:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T13:31:43.051-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>To Catch A Ghost, Part 2</title><content type='html'>Well...the test results say that my house is ghost free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had hoped against hope that the cat toys would be in a different location, but they weren't. They were exactly where I had left them. I can't honestly say that I had expected otherwise, but there was the slightest bit of hope that I would be wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death of a loved one, whether it be a human or a pet is a tramatic experience that takes months, sometimes years to recover from. We cling to the hope that we can still somehow connect - whether spirtually or paranormally, only to discover that in time those feelings often weaken or go away for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not one hundred per cent convinced that a form of Willy isn't floating around my house somewhere, which&amp;nbsp;gives me the sad realization&amp;nbsp;that I haven't fully recovered from the loss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8340718932997443435?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8340718932997443435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8340718932997443435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8340718932997443435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8340718932997443435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-catch-ghost-part-2.html' title='To Catch A Ghost, Part 2'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-518066145893842020</id><published>2010-02-08T09:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T14:47:09.145-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>To Catch A Ghost, Part 1</title><content type='html'>My cat Willy died several months ago, but I believe his ghost is still hanging around the house. Most mornings my wife thinks that she hears him walking down the stairs and I have often times thought that I heard him playing with his toys in the other room.&amp;nbsp;Also, late at night I often feel him jump onto the bed and go to sleep beside me, just like he did almost every night while he was living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Willy was alive, he always seemed to have a connection with outside forces. He would bat&amp;nbsp;at unseen objects and would constantly cry at a blank wall as if something were inside it. Now that he's gone, it almost feels like he's joined that invisible world that he always seemed to be a part of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first clue to all of this was right after he died. We had decided that we were&amp;nbsp;done with pets and we threw out all of the cat toys. That night I put the garbage out on the curb like I always do, but in the morning I noticed that many of the cat toys were scattered all over the yard. What made this interesting was that not all of them were out of the trash - only the ones that Willy always played with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gathered them up and threw them away again. The next morning, those same cat toys were scattered all over the yard has if they had been played with. This time, I decided to keep a couple of those toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those toys&amp;nbsp;have been sitting in my desk for several months, and I feel it's now time to get them out. Tonight I plan on putting them is different places in the house. The next morning, if Willy is a ghost, the toys should be in a different spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'm expecting, but I know what I'm hoping for. Check this blog soon for the results.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-518066145893842020?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/518066145893842020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=518066145893842020' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/518066145893842020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/518066145893842020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-catch-ghost-part-1.html' title='To Catch A Ghost, Part 1'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1653737556679583931</id><published>2010-01-31T20:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T12:51:18.557-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Holding Onto The Past While Dealing With The Present</title><content type='html'>My wife and I went out to dinner the other night with another couple. The first twenty minutes&amp;nbsp;all four&amp;nbsp;of us took turns telling each other of the&amp;nbsp;declining health of our mothers. My friend said that his mother has gone down hill so much in the past two years that as far as he's concerned the mother he knew&amp;nbsp;died two years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel that way about my mother and I hope that I never will, but watching a parent battle the atrocities of father time&amp;nbsp;is an eye opening experience. No one is perfect, but it seems like old age and&amp;nbsp;everything that comes with it,&amp;nbsp;magnifies those imperfections. For what was once a vibrant, fun-loving, life of the party,&amp;nbsp;is many times of late&amp;nbsp;replaced by a nervous, forgetful, mean-spirited, old stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched both of my parents take care of their aging parents, so it's not like I didn't have any warning. I think it's just that I, and many other baby boomers just didn't pay attention. And the reality of it all is that now is when my mother needs her family the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes this hard is that when&amp;nbsp;I visit,&amp;nbsp;I expect to see the healthy person that&amp;nbsp;I've known my whole life.&amp;nbsp;And when that person&amp;nbsp;is replaced by the older and&amp;nbsp;needier version,&amp;nbsp;my own selfish needs suddenly seem more important - or at least easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bottom line is that I&amp;nbsp;know&amp;nbsp;my mother feels a lot worse than I do, both emotionally and physically.&amp;nbsp;And as she moves on to the next level of life, so must I. And I'm finding that&amp;nbsp;as the sick and&amp;nbsp;aging go through denial and acceptence, so must the healthy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1653737556679583931?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1653737556679583931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1653737556679583931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1653737556679583931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1653737556679583931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/01/holding-onto-past-while-dealing-with.html' title='Holding Onto The Past While Dealing With The Present'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7389834587055339800</id><published>2010-01-18T11:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T11:09:50.022-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Facebook Curse</title><content type='html'>At my age, Facebook is a great tool to find and reconnect with long, lost friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, at my age it's also one of the most annoying, addicting, time-wasting creations known to man. And yet, I still find myself each day prying into the lives of those who wish to share their every mundane thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On rare occassions I'l get a good laugh, or learn something worthwhile about someone, but most of the time I find myself just shaking my head, for more times than not I learn things about people that I would rather not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through their own words, I have&amp;nbsp;discovered through Facebook that certain family members and friends are immature, insecure, shallow, in constant need of attention, or just plain clueless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, it's my choice on whether or not to endure this torture, so I&amp;nbsp;try to keep quiet, which for me isn't always easy.&amp;nbsp;However, until I have the courage and strength to just&amp;nbsp;walk away from Facebook,&amp;nbsp;I guess I'll have to just keep shaking my head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7389834587055339800?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7389834587055339800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7389834587055339800' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7389834587055339800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7389834587055339800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/01/facebook-curse.html' title='The Facebook Curse'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2193498644272196945</id><published>2010-01-12T10:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T15:08:28.180-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Current Events'/><title type='text'>Cheaters And Heros</title><content type='html'>All over the news yesterday was the not very surprising confession that Mark McGwire cheated throughout his baseball career. What barely made the news yesterday was the death of Miep Gies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miep Gies was a true hero. She was the last surviving member of the family that hid Anne Frank&amp;nbsp;during the Nazi takeover in World War II. She was also responsible for holding onto Anne Frank's diary until her father was released from his imprisonment in a concentration camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark McGwire made history by cheating, while Miep Gies kept a part of history alive through loyality and bravery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark McGwire knew he was cheating as he stole the legacy of Roger Maris right in front of the Maris family, while Miep Gies knew she was going against a deadly communist government and yet did it for her strong beliefs in what she felt was happening at that time was wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark McGwire claims that he cheated because steriods were available and everyone was using them, while Miep Gies risked her life because she had the courage and class to not go along with the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark McGwire makes a tearful apology, wins back a few fans and will most likely end up in the Baseball Hall of Fame, while Meip Gies dies and most of the world could care less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with this picture?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2193498644272196945?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2193498644272196945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2193498644272196945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2193498644272196945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2193498644272196945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2010/01/cheaters-and-heros.html' title='Cheaters And Heros'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2211968423659992924</id><published>2009-12-18T13:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T13:10:52.279-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Mystery Of Christmas</title><content type='html'>It's Christmas time once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time when Atheist's celebrate a religious holiday and the believers celebrate a birthday that happened in July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time when good hard-working people often spend money they don't have on a gift they really don't want to buy because they couldn't find the gift that they were really looking for in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time when we reflect on the mistakes of the past year, with the knowledge that we will most likely&amp;nbsp;make them&amp;nbsp;again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, it's also that time where the words &lt;em&gt;peace&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;good will&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;family&lt;/em&gt; take on a special meaning - a meaning that often gets lost come January.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2211968423659992924?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2211968423659992924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2211968423659992924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2211968423659992924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2211968423659992924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/mystery-of-christmas.html' title='The Mystery Of Christmas'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6698042137193004899</id><published>2009-12-15T08:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T08:51:30.383-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Magic Inside Us</title><content type='html'>My father has been dead for over ten years now. And yet I see him often and speak with him frequently. It happens at night when I'm sleeping. It happens when I dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I have a dream that includes my family, my father is always in it as if he had never died. Apparently my sub-conscious thinks he's still alive, or in denial, or something of that nature.&amp;nbsp;Whatever it is, it has been occuring at least once a month for over ten years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I can't remember any of those&amp;nbsp;dreams&amp;nbsp;now, but when I have them they are so&amp;nbsp;vivid that&amp;nbsp;I always awake thinking that he is still around. After a moment or two I realize it was all a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This doesn't make me sad. It makes me happy - happy&amp;nbsp;to be with him again. It might be&amp;nbsp;in the form of a&amp;nbsp;dream, but they feel like the real thing. And I'll take that over nothing any day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6698042137193004899?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6698042137193004899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6698042137193004899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6698042137193004899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6698042137193004899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/magic-inside-us.html' title='The Magic Inside Us'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7638795460275256044</id><published>2009-12-14T09:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T13:02:50.186-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Choices Of Yesterday</title><content type='html'>Some people just have bad reputations. There is usually a reason for this. Most always it's self-inflicted - like making a mistake and then repeating it.&amp;nbsp;Or it could be as simple as choosing the wrong people to hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the reason, these things happen. And more often than not, they happen to regular people. Most, eventually learn from the bad choices they made in the past, but sometimes that learning comes too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's never too late, however,&amp;nbsp;to start over.&amp;nbsp;One must realize, though,&amp;nbsp;that a reputation&amp;nbsp;damaged (no matter who or&amp;nbsp;what is&amp;nbsp;to blame)&amp;nbsp;has its consequences and might just take a lifetime to repair. It's the choices we make that deterimine our real future - and ultimately, our own happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7638795460275256044?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7638795460275256044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7638795460275256044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7638795460275256044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7638795460275256044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/choices-of-yesterday.html' title='The Choices Of Yesterday'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1525736704009520556</id><published>2009-12-11T09:19:00.017-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T15:02:00.692-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Tiger Woods And Celebrity Worship: My Two Cents</title><content type='html'>I've said this before and I'll say it again and again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEVER put athletes and entertainers on a pedestal.&amp;nbsp;One can admire their talents, but&amp;nbsp;why idolize a person&amp;nbsp;without even knowing them? People do this all of the time and quite frankly this behavior is very shallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a novel idea. If you want to look up to someone, why don't you start with a family member or friend or co-worker - at least someone you know. And if you don't know anyone with qualities that you want to admire - then maybe you, yourself could become the person that others can look up too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there are athletes and celebrities out there&amp;nbsp;that are good, honest&amp;nbsp;people, but if you don't know them personally, then&amp;nbsp;how do you really know? You certainly&amp;nbsp;can't believe what you read because famous people have the money and the power to create their own image whether it's real or not. Sorry Mister Woods, but you are a perfect example of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If more people would stop idolizing the famous, then&amp;nbsp;maybe these celebrities&amp;nbsp;would stop getting these ridiculous salaries and the money that these sponsors shell out could go to something a little more important than an expensive mansion that nobody really needs. This would also free up news programs that seem to think that the rich and famous are news worthy every hour&amp;nbsp;of every&amp;nbsp;day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's great to enjoy the&amp;nbsp;talents&amp;nbsp;of a&amp;nbsp;certain athelete or entertainer, but to admire someone that you don't know personally? Come on, get real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1525736704009520556?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1525736704009520556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1525736704009520556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1525736704009520556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1525736704009520556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/tiger-woods-and-celebrity-worship-my.html' title='Tiger Woods And Celebrity Worship: My Two Cents'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5964417077232692320</id><published>2009-12-10T08:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T08:22:30.453-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Mistletoe And Me</title><content type='html'>Movies and&amp;nbsp;ones own imagination make mistletoe very romantic. In my single days I would daydream of meeting a beautiful&amp;nbsp;stranger at a Christmas party. In this daydream we would&amp;nbsp;suddenly discover that we were standing under the mistletoe and then look lovingly into each others eyes before that first memorable kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was around eighteen I had the opportunity to make this daydream a reality. I was at probably my first party that didn't include high school kids that I knew. In fact I hardly knew anyone. Many of the people there were older (twenties) and there were a lot of attractive women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Christmas time and everyone was in a festive mood. I started talking to this young woman. I was shy and at that age if a woman spoke to me I instantly liked her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt that the conversation was going smoothly, although the entire time I kept wondering to myself what I would talk about next. My gut feeling was that there was no chemistry between us, but I ignored that because she was not only pretty, but talking to me as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when I noticed it. We were standing right below the mistletoe. I knew right then and there that this was the opportunity of a lifetime.&amp;nbsp;I took advantage of&amp;nbsp;a pause in the conversation and&amp;nbsp;remember saying to this woman in my best romantic voice, "Do you realize that we're standing under the mistletoe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened next will stay with me forever. She looked me right in the eye and said, "Well then, I guess we better move." And so we did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an early lesson in heartbreak, brought on by my own imagination.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5964417077232692320?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5964417077232692320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5964417077232692320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5964417077232692320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5964417077232692320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/mistletoe-and-me.html' title='Mistletoe And Me'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4523106643876241402</id><published>2009-12-08T13:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T12:16:51.957-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Sexy Underwear</title><content type='html'>Years ago I knew a guy who would shower his girlfriend with gifts&amp;nbsp;for every occassion. Whether it be her birthday, Valentines Day, Christmas or any type of anniversary one could come up with, he would spend a lot of money on her with all types of presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among all of the gifts she would recieve,&amp;nbsp;one gift&amp;nbsp;was always some sort of sexy underwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I&amp;nbsp;pointed out&amp;nbsp;to him that sexy underwear is not really a gift for her, it's more of a gift for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His reply was something I will always remember. He said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If she puts on the sexy underwear and it's comfortable, then it is a gift for her. If it is uncomfortable, then it is a gift for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kind of makes sense in an odd sort of way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4523106643876241402?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4523106643876241402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4523106643876241402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4523106643876241402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4523106643876241402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/sexy-underwear.html' title='Sexy Underwear'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1296056220212503375</id><published>2009-12-02T14:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T14:32:32.789-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Last Laugh</title><content type='html'>I'm old enough to remember watching The Beatles&amp;nbsp;when they made their American debut on the&amp;nbsp;Ed Sullivan Show way back in the early 1960's. I remember me and my family all gathered around the television and the reactions&amp;nbsp;all of us&amp;nbsp;had&amp;nbsp;as we saw John, Paul, George and Ringo for the very first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had never seen or heard anything like&amp;nbsp;The Beatles&amp;nbsp;before and our initial reaction was to laugh - and that's what we did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later I was in a movie theatre and they showed a preview for this new movie called "Star Wars." It looked really silly, and I remember everyone in the theatre laughing all the way through the trailer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years later you could not turn on your televsion set without seeing the ads for a new station dedicated to just music. Everywhere you went you heard "I want my MTV." And of course, we laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this kind of makes you wonder what the future holds for the people and things we are laughing at today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1296056220212503375?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1296056220212503375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1296056220212503375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1296056220212503375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1296056220212503375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/last-laugh.html' title='The Last Laugh'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-211738946343715816</id><published>2009-12-01T12:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T12:33:44.315-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Good, Bad Or...</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while I am reminded of the behavior of people. It amazes me how some can be so generous and giving while others cruel, self-centered and downright mean. What amazes me more, though, are the people that are neither.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I and&amp;nbsp;many others&amp;nbsp;I know fall into the "neither" catagory. We love, we laugh, we&amp;nbsp;care and we give, but all of that is often just&amp;nbsp;within our little circle of family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every service organization is always in need of volunteers. Whether it be homeless shelters, food banks, Salvation Army or numerous others, there is always someone that could use the help of others. On the rare occassions that I have offered my services I have felt tremendous pride and inner peace for the time I committed to the less fortunate. It seems, however, that I always have an excuse to never go back and help again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that makes me neither good or bad - just ordinary. What about you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-211738946343715816?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/211738946343715816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=211738946343715816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/211738946343715816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/211738946343715816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/12/good-bad-or.html' title='Good, Bad Or...'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5015608791524471499</id><published>2009-11-30T08:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T09:06:19.650-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Ladies - I'm Talking to You</title><content type='html'>I have a complaint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it, that most women leave the toilet seat up after they are finished in the bathroom? There are two lids, you know - the round one that you sit on, and the lid with no hole. A bathroom looks a lot classier when you don't have to look at an open toilet. Ladies, I'm surprised and a little bit shocked that you haven't noticed this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it that you are just&amp;nbsp;too busy&amp;nbsp;criticizing men for&amp;nbsp;leaving one lid up that you don't realize yourself that the other lid should be closed as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm aware&amp;nbsp;that many women have this same complaint against men, but I happen to be a man that always closes&amp;nbsp;both lids when I'm finished, therefore giving me the right to complain. So there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5015608791524471499?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5015608791524471499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5015608791524471499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5015608791524471499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5015608791524471499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/11/ladies-im-talking-to-you.html' title='Ladies - I&apos;m Talking to You'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5601359376864242983</id><published>2009-11-10T09:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T10:41:14.647-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Leave It To A Song</title><content type='html'>I've been to many weddings in my fifty-two years. Including my own. I've seen couples flourish and others fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One&amp;nbsp;can dissect the secret to&amp;nbsp;a successful marriage all they want, but I think the answer&amp;nbsp;lies in the lyrics of an old "Asleep at the Wheel" song. They go like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You've got to dance with who brung you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Swing with who swung you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life ain't no forty-yard dash.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be in it for the long run&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the long run you'll have more fun&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you dance with who brung you to the bash.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think those lyrics say it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5601359376864242983?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5601359376864242983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5601359376864242983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5601359376864242983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5601359376864242983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/11/leave-it-to-song.html' title='Leave It To A Song'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8244437787726541547</id><published>2009-11-05T08:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T16:41:54.867-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Current Events'/><title type='text'>Thank You, Baseball</title><content type='html'>Finally, a steriod free baseball season. And what a difference it made. The sport was actually fun again. For the past several years, I had pretty much given up on baseball. I followed it some, but not like I used too. For me it had become a game&amp;nbsp;a overpaid&amp;nbsp;cheaters. Steroid use was obvious by the un-natural blown-up bodies of many of the players, which took the thrill of the game away from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2009 season was different. It was players like Aaron Hill, Ben Zobrist, Troy Tulowitzki, Carl Crawford, Jason Werth&amp;nbsp;and Pablo Sandoval just to name a few that brought&amp;nbsp;fire back to the game. And this past season&amp;nbsp;if you&amp;nbsp;followed the Yankees, Red Sox, Rays, Blue Jays, Angels, Rangers, Phillies, Marlins, Braves,&amp;nbsp;Cardinals, Dodgers, Rockies or Giants you saw Baseball in all its exciting glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to think that&amp;nbsp;the days of cheating in Baseball&amp;nbsp;are over, but I'm sure there's another drug lurking around the corner.&amp;nbsp;If that's the case, hopefully it will be taken care of immediately, unlike the shameful way steriod use was handled. Live and learn, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hat goes off to the New York Yankees and their World Series win. People love to hate them, but they were clearly the best team in baseball this past season. And speaking as a fan of the sport, they were very impressive to watch. I'm looking forward to next season and all of the surprises that it will bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome back, Baseball. It's good to have you "clean" again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8244437787726541547?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8244437787726541547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8244437787726541547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8244437787726541547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8244437787726541547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/11/thank-you-baseball.html' title='Thank You, Baseball'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1611180419837728644</id><published>2009-11-03T09:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T09:57:04.168-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Truthful Friend</title><content type='html'>My first decade - ages one to ten, I was pretty clueless to the real world around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second decade - ages eleven to twenty, I thought I knew everything, but in hindsight, I was more clueless than I was in my first decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third decade - ages twenty-one to thirty, I thought I had it all together, until that nasty hindsight showed up&amp;nbsp;again and made me realize that I didn't really know what I was doing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fourth decade - ages thirty-one to forty, I became more responsible, but once again was shown the truth by my old friend hindsight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fifth decade - ages forty-one to fifty, I did better, but hindsight proved once again that I was not perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now in my sixth decade,&amp;nbsp;at age fifty plus, I feel that I have learned from all of my mistakes. Of course, I'll have to wait another ten years to find out if I'm right.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1611180419837728644?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1611180419837728644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1611180419837728644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1611180419837728644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1611180419837728644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/11/truthful-friend.html' title='The Truthful Friend'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1210651327248415442</id><published>2009-10-29T10:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T14:47:09.950-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Date That Never Was</title><content type='html'>I was in this acting class in New York City back in the days in which I was an actor. In this particular class there was a very beautiful girl. She&amp;nbsp;was a professional model, but wanted to take some acting classes so that when her modeling career was over, she would have something to fall back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lived right next to the subway I needed to take to get home, so every night after class we would walk together on our way to our separate apartments. This went on for months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a talker and loved to talk about her boyfriend. On the night of our last class, she asked me if I could come over Saturday night and she would cook me dinner - just me. I asked about her boyfriend and she told me that they had broken up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was that she wasn't really over her boyfriend and that she would be using me for rebound purposes. And&amp;nbsp;for a for a twenty two year-old male, this was great news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the night of our dinner date, I arrived with wine and wearing my very best silk shirt. After all, this was the 1970's. Well,&amp;nbsp;actually&amp;nbsp;it&amp;nbsp;was 1981, but things hadn't really changed yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were having a great time, until her phone rang. She was on the phone for at least forty-five minutes and when she came back into the room she told me that it was her ex-boyfriend on the other line.&amp;nbsp;Apparently, he had wanted to come over, but she told him that she had a dinner guest and didn't have enough food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the night went on for a little while longer, until there was a knock at her door. It was her ex-boyfriend and he had brought his own steak to cook. I knew then that I was in trouble, but was determined not to be the first one to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime she would leave the room, he would say to me that he was not going home. I took this as a challenge and&amp;nbsp;decided that I would not budge from her couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner was awkard and after dinner was worse. I was&amp;nbsp;obviously the odd man out and everyone knew&amp;nbsp;it. She finally asked me if I could leave and by that&amp;nbsp;time&amp;nbsp;I was happy to oblige her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw her about three years later - on television. She was in a commercial for Tampons. True story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1210651327248415442?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1210651327248415442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1210651327248415442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1210651327248415442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1210651327248415442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/date-that-never-was.html' title='The Date That Never Was'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8368450202841011573</id><published>2009-10-27T09:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T09:16:53.345-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>A Tale Of Two Grandfathers</title><content type='html'>Unlike the youth of today, I only had two&amp;nbsp;grandfathers - my mothers&amp;nbsp;dad and my fathers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fathers parents were immigrants from Sicily. And although my grandmother spoke very good English, I could never really understand my grandfather. He knew a few words, like boy and dog, but most of the time it was a combination of Italian and broken English, which as a child made no sense to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I grew into my teen years, I became self-absorbed in my own life and a grandparent that I couldn't understand was not a priority to me. When he died, I was sad, but it wasn't until I got older that I realized the opportunity that I lost never getting to know him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other grandfather I knew very well because he lived with us. We would always watch football together on Sunday afternoons and we both also shared a love of movies. He would&amp;nbsp;go to the movies&amp;nbsp;every Saturday night by himself and the next day I could hardly wait to find out which movie he saw. He loved James Bond and he hated "Easy Rider" which I remember was the last movie he ever saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also remember the last time I ever saw him alive. My parents were out of town and they had hired an elderly woman to stay with us. I remember&amp;nbsp;it was around three in the morning and I had woken up because I had heard a noise downstairs. When I went downstairs I saw my grandfather on a gurney being taken outside to an ambulance that was parked outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandfather saw me and started yelling (and I mean yelling)&amp;nbsp;at me to "go back to bed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, he died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never upset that he yelled at me. Even then at twelve years of age I understood why. I have&amp;nbsp;often wondered, though, if during his last days&amp;nbsp;alone in his hospital bed&amp;nbsp;if he felt&amp;nbsp;bad about yelling at me. I hope he knew that I understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wonder what&amp;nbsp;my Italian grandfather thought about never really knowing his grandchildren. I was too young to know if he ever made an effort, but I would bet money that he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad memories from my youth that haunt me still today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8368450202841011573?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8368450202841011573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8368450202841011573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8368450202841011573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8368450202841011573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/tale-of-two-grandfathers.html' title='A Tale Of Two Grandfathers'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1654403417283420534</id><published>2009-10-21T11:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T11:12:25.866-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Opinions And Behavior</title><content type='html'>I don't believe in abortion. However, I believe that&amp;nbsp;abortion should stay legal. I am also for the death penalty, but if I was on a jury, I&amp;nbsp;could&amp;nbsp;not&amp;nbsp;condemn a person to death.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;also&amp;nbsp;believe that I am not alone in these thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who call me a hypocrite - I say look in the mirror. We all do or say contrasting things in the course of a lifetime, but when we&amp;nbsp;do, we&amp;nbsp;usually become very politician like and ignore the fact that we sometimes believe one way and behave the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So are all people hypocrites?&amp;nbsp;I don't know,&amp;nbsp;but I do know that&amp;nbsp;we are&amp;nbsp;all human.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1654403417283420534?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1654403417283420534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1654403417283420534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1654403417283420534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1654403417283420534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/going-head-to-head-with-opinions-and.html' title='Opinions And Behavior'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2369097667788888405</id><published>2009-10-19T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:13:13.880-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Rudy Ray Moore - Gone But Not Forgotten</title><content type='html'>Rudy Ray Moore died one year ago today. His death didn't make the national news in print&amp;nbsp;or broadcast, but thankfully the internet was around to inform his fans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His party albums of the 1970's were funnier and dirtier than the much tamer Richard&amp;nbsp;Pryor and Redd Foxx.&amp;nbsp;Moore was a true original who never changed his style to accommodate television&amp;nbsp;or Hollywood. And because of that, he became an underground cult figure instead of the superstar that he could have&amp;nbsp;been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His movie&amp;nbsp;"Dolemite" was mentioned in the New York Times as "the Citizen Kane of kung fu pimping movies," and his rhyming routines of the 1970's earned him the title "The Godfather of Rap."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His originality and his conviction&amp;nbsp;to stay true to himself should always serve has an inspiration&amp;nbsp;to any writer or performer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2369097667788888405?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2369097667788888405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2369097667788888405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2369097667788888405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2369097667788888405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/rudy-ray-moore-gone-but-not-forgotten.html' title='Rudy Ray Moore - Gone But Not Forgotten'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4668990176351433036</id><published>2009-10-16T08:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T08:17:56.876-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Words Of Humor, Words Of Hurt</title><content type='html'>With the invention of "caller id" and the extinction of the pay phone, it looks like the art of the prank phone call has joined the ranks of the "remember when" group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making prank phone calls was a happy part of my youth. I wasn't very good at it, but a kid in our neighborhood was. At age twelve, his voice had already changed, so when he called some unsuspecting poor soul under the identity of a radio show giving away a color television, we not only&amp;nbsp;laughed at that moment, but were also entertained every time the subject came up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to like to go to the phone book and pick out a name at random&amp;nbsp;and then call that person and act like I was a long lost friend. The conversation usually ended with me hanging up to cover up the fact that I was about ready to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother liked to call the pizza&amp;nbsp;restaurants and ask them&amp;nbsp;for a list of toppings and then order a pizza with a topping they didn't have -&amp;nbsp;like dog food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like anything, though, good fun can get out of control - and when that happens, well, anything&amp;nbsp;can happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For us boys under the age of thirteen,&amp;nbsp;what started out&amp;nbsp;as harmless fun&amp;nbsp;would&amp;nbsp;often turn into something hurtful under the pretense of trying to be funny - like the time we called up an elderly woman and told her that we were going to rob her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prank phone calls are a thing of the past, but&amp;nbsp;words still tend to get out of control. Then and now, people of every age say and do&amp;nbsp;stupid things. Unfortunately, many&amp;nbsp;people are too old to blame it on youth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4668990176351433036?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4668990176351433036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4668990176351433036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4668990176351433036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4668990176351433036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/words-of-humor-words-of-hurt.html' title='Words Of Humor, Words Of Hurt'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-3514277330406995290</id><published>2009-10-15T10:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T10:00:30.928-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Crushed</title><content type='html'>When I was in eighth grade I had a crush on a girl that didn't know I existed. I remember&amp;nbsp;I would always take&amp;nbsp;the long way to certain classes so that I would pass her in the hallways. I would always look at her to try to make eye contact. On the rare occassion that she would look back at me, I would smile and she would then always look away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago I was at a restaurant and&amp;nbsp;this girl that I had a crush on 38 years ago just&amp;nbsp;happened to be sitting in&amp;nbsp;the booth across from me. I avoided eye contact with her while&amp;nbsp;I was eating my meal.&amp;nbsp;When it was time for me to leave, I got up and glanced at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right when I looked at her, she looked at me. I smiled and she turned away. I guess somethings never change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-3514277330406995290?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/3514277330406995290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=3514277330406995290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3514277330406995290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3514277330406995290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/crushed.html' title='Crushed'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5134303688845155796</id><published>2009-10-12T13:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T16:41:20.927-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Plugging Websites</title><content type='html'>Everybody has a favorite website. I have three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, the most useful one can be found at: &lt;a href="http://www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you enjoy writing and would like to get better at it, then this is the place to go. Each day there is a topic to write about and a little timer in the upper right hand corner to time yourself if you please. There are some very good writers who contribute to this and I always have fun either reading the short thoughts of others or joining in on the fun myself. For anyone who writes, this website is a must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are into the personal side of history then I highly&amp;nbsp;recommend &lt;a href="http://www.lettersofnote.com/"&gt;http://www.lettersofnote.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day a new letter is posted - often times from&amp;nbsp;a famous person&amp;nbsp;from the past. I've read letters that&amp;nbsp;have been written&amp;nbsp;from&amp;nbsp;Stan&amp;nbsp;Laurel&amp;nbsp;to JFK.&amp;nbsp;These&amp;nbsp;letters&amp;nbsp;take you back&amp;nbsp;in time and give the reader an insight into&amp;nbsp;what some of the biggest names in history were really like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, if you like baseball or want to learn more about it, look no farther than &lt;a href="http://www.mlb.com/"&gt;http://www.mlb.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This website is the true meaning of "fun on a rainy day." You can literally spend hours on this site either playing all kinds of baseball games or reading up on your favorite player or team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why waste your time with all of the shallow folk on Facebook? With the three websites listed above, you now&amp;nbsp;can not only grow in your knowledge, but you can have fun while you're doing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5134303688845155796?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5134303688845155796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5134303688845155796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5134303688845155796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5134303688845155796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/plugging-websites.html' title='Plugging Websites'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2181050974292616192</id><published>2009-10-09T17:22:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T10:41:04.369-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Star Wars</title><content type='html'>It's interesting that the day after&amp;nbsp;President Obama&amp;nbsp;wins the Nobel Peace Prize, the United&amp;nbsp;States blast two missles into the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I know that&amp;nbsp;the moon mission&amp;nbsp;was all done for the sake of science. Either way, I'm happy for both NASA and our president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Obama's surprise award, maybe other&amp;nbsp;nations will now look at the United States as a country that is trying to change the way the rest of the world&amp;nbsp;views us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, now more than ever, we need all the nations to come together. It's&amp;nbsp;the only hope this planet has in fighting&amp;nbsp;off&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;alien invasion that is most likely to follow as a retaliation&amp;nbsp;to us bombing the moon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2181050974292616192?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2181050974292616192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2181050974292616192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2181050974292616192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2181050974292616192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/shape-of-things-to-come.html' title='Star Wars'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5424687760584610759</id><published>2009-10-08T10:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T10:48:20.309-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Hassles Of Avoiding The Flu</title><content type='html'>Apparently, my local medical&amp;nbsp;community wants me to get&amp;nbsp;the flu, for they&amp;nbsp;have been no help what-so-ever in my inquiries about flu shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started last night when I called my local&amp;nbsp;convenient care. The conversation went something like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; Hi, I was wondering where I need to go to get a flu shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;C. CARE:&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;We don't do that&amp;nbsp;here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; Can you tell me where I can go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;C. CARE:&lt;/em&gt; Look on our web site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; You can't just tell me where I can get a flu shot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;C. CARE:&lt;/em&gt; It's in our brochure. You can come by and pick one up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't bother talking to this man anymore, as it was clear he didn't want to help me. So I then went to the web site, which I might add,&amp;nbsp;was very confusing. I found a number to the Flu Clinic,&amp;nbsp;so I called it. The conversation went like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; Hi, I need some information on where I can get a flu shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;FLU CLINIC:&lt;/em&gt; Do you have a primary doctor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; Yes, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;FLU CLINIC:&lt;/em&gt; Then call him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm no dummy. I would have called my doctor in the first place, but I remember last year he sent me to a local flu clinic, so I didn't think he needed to be bothered. Anyway, I called the office of my primary doctor. Here is how the conversation went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; Hi, can I make an appointment to get a flu shot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NURSE:&lt;/em&gt; No. You need to go to a flu clinic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME:&lt;/em&gt; I just called&amp;nbsp;a flu clinic and they told me to call you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NURSE:&lt;/em&gt; That's because everyone is out of shots. Call back next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have to wait. I did&amp;nbsp;notice&amp;nbsp;a sign at my local Walgreens for flu shots. Maybe I'll just go there. After all, they are a "drug" store.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5424687760584610759?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5424687760584610759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5424687760584610759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5424687760584610759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5424687760584610759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/hassles-of-avoiding-flu.html' title='The Hassles Of Avoiding The Flu'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6038993507072322723</id><published>2009-10-07T14:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T14:17:28.709-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Man And Machine</title><content type='html'>When&amp;nbsp;a television or computer&amp;nbsp;is on the verge of breaking down,&amp;nbsp;we often smack, shake or curse it back&amp;nbsp;to something we can live with. This method will&amp;nbsp;often&amp;nbsp;work for&amp;nbsp;a while until&amp;nbsp;the objects&amp;nbsp;finally frustrate us into giving up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When&amp;nbsp;a&amp;nbsp;human being&amp;nbsp;is in the same state of disarray, we&amp;nbsp;frequently do similar things,&amp;nbsp;which often have&amp;nbsp;the same results.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6038993507072322723?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6038993507072322723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6038993507072322723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6038993507072322723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6038993507072322723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/man-and-machine.html' title='Man And Machine'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-9181913050575276842</id><published>2009-10-06T09:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T09:38:39.167-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Thoughts On A Busy Life</title><content type='html'>Most people are busy. And if you ask them, they will say that they are too busy. Many&amp;nbsp;people tend to over extend themselves either at work, play or with various family activities or problems. Often times all of the above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being married adds to the confusion because your&amp;nbsp;stress becomes your spouses stress, which then adds more stress to the stress that both of you already have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You find yourself dreaming of time alone or just a night out with your spouse to get away from all of the high maintenance people or problems or obligations that dominate your life. On the rare occasion that you&amp;nbsp;are alone or with your&amp;nbsp;spouse, you find yourself thinking or talking about all of the high maintenance people or problems or obligations that dominate your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More rare than that is the hour or two where there is peace, which is always interrupted by high maintenance people, problems or obligations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a solution to all of this. This solution takes courage, guts and a commitment that every busy person must make to find tranquility. And that is&amp;nbsp;simply saying&amp;nbsp;"no" without a guilty conscience. And the only way to do that is to not be afraid to be selfish every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if I could just practice what I preach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-9181913050575276842?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/9181913050575276842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=9181913050575276842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/9181913050575276842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/9181913050575276842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/thoughts-on-busy-life.html' title='Thoughts On A Busy Life'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4089515363746035350</id><published>2009-10-05T09:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T08:24:39.738-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Current Events'/><title type='text'>No Olympics - No Surprise</title><content type='html'>I happened to be in Chicago this past weekend when the 2016 Olympic site was awarded to Rio de Janeiro. With Chicago in the running, the atmosphere was filled with&amp;nbsp;enthusiasm and anticipation. The news media had certainly helped in building up the excitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, not the top story for the last six months,&amp;nbsp;Chicago and its chance of getting the Olympic bid was certainly in the news enough to believe that it was a strong possibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That morning, though, on my hotel televison, one of the news channels that was covering the story said that Madrid and Rio de Janeiro were the favorites. I had never heard this before. Apparently the other news outlets had done a pretty good job of keeping this fact hidden from the American public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Rio was announced, the media filled the airwaves with stories of shock and disappointment. My shock and disappointment, though, was geared more towards the media as it became more and more apparant to me that this false sense of anticipation was created by the media themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one&amp;nbsp;news outlet knew&amp;nbsp;that the favorites were Madrid and Rio de Janeiro, you can bet good money that the other outlets knew this also. But, then again, that would not have made for a very good story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4089515363746035350?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4089515363746035350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4089515363746035350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4089515363746035350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4089515363746035350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-olympics-no-surprise.html' title='No Olympics - No Surprise'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1695838096775109372</id><published>2009-10-02T09:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T09:52:33.538-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>A Rocky Foundation</title><content type='html'>Hatred, laziness, prejudice&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;selfishness are&amp;nbsp;four words that are&amp;nbsp;born out of ignorance and greed - two things which sadly&amp;nbsp;seem to have&amp;nbsp;shaped the world&amp;nbsp;that we live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We&amp;nbsp;are&amp;nbsp;living&amp;nbsp;in a&amp;nbsp;time where political leaders are not trusted and overpaid entertainers and athletes are put on pedestals. The technical advancements of computers and games are making&amp;nbsp;exercise for&amp;nbsp;children a chore instead of a natural thing and&amp;nbsp;the older generation is split between&amp;nbsp;progress and refusing to adapt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's time to not worry&amp;nbsp;about the big picture and put our focus on ourselves and families, because I have this feeling that the world as we know it, is only going to get more convulted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1695838096775109372?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1695838096775109372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1695838096775109372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1695838096775109372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1695838096775109372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/rocky-foundation.html' title='A Rocky Foundation'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-845579242159552962</id><published>2009-10-01T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T10:27:13.133-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>My School</title><content type='html'>I went to Lincoln Grade School, Edison Jr. High, Champaign Central High School and Parkland College. All of those schools&amp;nbsp;contributed to&amp;nbsp;me&amp;nbsp;learning social and academic skills. They didn't prepare me for the real world, though. I had to go to a different school for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That learning institute&amp;nbsp;was called The School of Hard Knocks. The only requirement that you need to succeed in this school is the willinginess to laugh, love, dream,&amp;nbsp;get angry, hurt&amp;nbsp;and cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the only school I know of where failure and disappointment&amp;nbsp;can lead to&amp;nbsp;more knowledge. I recommend this school. It's not easy, but it will help you prepare for the&amp;nbsp;erratic behavior&amp;nbsp;of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-845579242159552962?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/845579242159552962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=845579242159552962' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/845579242159552962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/845579242159552962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-school.html' title='My School'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2096125818409938098</id><published>2009-09-30T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T12:47:45.008-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Doorman</title><content type='html'>Back in the late 1970's I lived in New York City.&amp;nbsp;My apartment was&amp;nbsp;just two blocks off of Broadway which was a busy street, so at night I only had two blocks to walk&amp;nbsp;in an area that wasn't very safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a doorman to an apartment complex on one of those blocks. Everytime I would pass him late in the night he would always wave at me and I would wave back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember one night he wasn't there. I remember looking at my watch as I walked by and it was exactly midnight. The next day the New York television stations all reported about a doorman&amp;nbsp;that was shot and killed around midnight the night before. They mentioned the address, so I went down the street to see if it was the address where the&amp;nbsp;doorman&amp;nbsp;worked. It was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder what would have have happened if I had walked by that apartment just a few minutes earlier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2096125818409938098?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2096125818409938098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2096125818409938098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2096125818409938098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2096125818409938098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/doorman.html' title='The Doorman'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7109714031274176866</id><published>2009-09-29T13:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T16:38:07.603-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Holy Robots</title><content type='html'>When I was younger I was always annoyed at church by the people that would be one step ahead of everyone else. You know, the&amp;nbsp;ones that stand up or sit down a half second&amp;nbsp;before the rest of the congregation,&amp;nbsp;or&amp;nbsp;are a few words ahead during the "Our Father."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to feel that these people were showing off and that for some reason, they felt that praying was a race and the first one to finish would be rewarded in the end. I don't think&amp;nbsp;that way&amp;nbsp;anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lately started to observe the people that get ahead of the Sunday morning church crowd. I have come to the conclusion that these are not people showing off. No, they are rather people caught up in the church&amp;nbsp;routine. They know the words and actions inside out. They know them to the point that they are responding without thinking, without feeling, without knowing what it is they are even saying or doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I sometimes have to wonder if that is worse than showing off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7109714031274176866?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7109714031274176866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7109714031274176866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7109714031274176866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7109714031274176866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/holy-robots.html' title='The Holy Robots'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-234178198596029151</id><published>2009-09-28T08:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T08:40:52.690-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Why I'll Never Be An English Major</title><content type='html'>I love to read and I love to write, but that being said, I could never have been an English major.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one, my spelling isn't great and&amp;nbsp;I often&amp;nbsp;get confused on when to use the words "to" and "too." I also like to get to the point and don't believe it takes&amp;nbsp;ten long&amp;nbsp;paragraphs to&amp;nbsp;say what I need to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like many of the classic's, but feel that&amp;nbsp;several of them are boring and a waste of time to read. However,&amp;nbsp;the main reason I could never be an English major&amp;nbsp;is simple. I like poems that rhyme.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-234178198596029151?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/234178198596029151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=234178198596029151' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/234178198596029151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/234178198596029151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-ill-never-be-english-major.html' title='Why I&apos;ll Never Be An English Major'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4315990432138516734</id><published>2009-09-25T08:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T08:33:05.465-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>I Once Knew...</title><content type='html'>I once knew a guy that refused to cut his nose hairs because his girlfriend thought they were sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once knew a woman who left her husband for a married man and then refused to see any movie that had&amp;nbsp;Angelina Jolie in it because she said&amp;nbsp;that the actress&amp;nbsp;was a home wrecker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once worked with a guy that loved opening packages so that he could eat the packing peanuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once knew a woman who on a long weekend out of town refused to speak to her husband, my wife and myself for&amp;nbsp;two whole days&amp;nbsp;because on the first night out,&amp;nbsp;the three of us&amp;nbsp;got hungry and wanted to order some food and she didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once knew a woman that took the wrong dosage of her medicine and then crashed into five&amp;nbsp;different police cars within an hour.&amp;nbsp;She lost&amp;nbsp;her license, but&amp;nbsp;got it back after&amp;nbsp;getting her medicine situation back on track.&amp;nbsp;Then&amp;nbsp;she ran over a woman who was getting mail from her mailbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of these are true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4315990432138516734?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4315990432138516734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4315990432138516734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4315990432138516734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4315990432138516734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-once-knew.html' title='I Once Knew...'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8669777874919433651</id><published>2009-09-24T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T08:08:31.204-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>A New Tomorrow?</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, I never understood why&amp;nbsp;the United States&amp;nbsp;was always trying to solve the problems of other countries. As I&amp;nbsp;became an adult, I understood this even less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think of the lives that have been lost needlessly, the money that's been spent&amp;nbsp;and the enemies that we have created by invading other countries with the pretense of&amp;nbsp;fixing&amp;nbsp;their problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My&amp;nbsp;hat goes off to President Obama for having the courage to think outside the box and to announce to the world that now it's time for this country to step back and not try to&amp;nbsp;fix the problems&amp;nbsp;of&amp;nbsp;others that are beyond our control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If indeed there is a war on terror, this looks like the first step in ending it. Maybe it's time that this country fly under the radar for a while. After all, we have enough problems on our own turf that need better attention right now. Maybe if we let someone else take the burden of being number one, this country can finally focus on getting back to basics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe this will make us weaker. If anything, it should make us more focused, which hopefully down the road can lead to some form of unity. And there is nothing stronger or sets a better example&amp;nbsp;than that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8669777874919433651?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8669777874919433651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8669777874919433651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8669777874919433651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8669777874919433651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-tomorrow.html' title='A New Tomorrow?'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5040360061000210149</id><published>2009-09-23T08:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T08:24:42.658-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Age And Time</title><content type='html'>It's true, most of us can't do the things we did when we were in our twenties or thirties. However, we can do things now that we won't be able to do in our seventies and eighties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From&amp;nbsp;age&amp;nbsp;thirty on, people tend to feel older and often dream of&amp;nbsp;the days&amp;nbsp;that will never come back. So instead of getting depressed about a youth gone by, maybe it's time to make the most of right now. After all, whether time flies, stands still or passes us by, it's still time. And we owe it to ourselves to make it time well spent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5040360061000210149?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5040360061000210149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5040360061000210149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5040360061000210149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5040360061000210149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/age-and-time.html' title='Age And Time'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-3076949223685344483</id><published>2009-09-22T08:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T12:24:37.005-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Strength Of Defeat</title><content type='html'>Defeat is a strong beast. It can stop, cripple or kill and idea, an attitude or even a person. It's born out of rejection, laziness&amp;nbsp;and fear of failure and takes on many shapes, sizes and identities. It's here, there, everywhere and nowhere. It's within the people we know and the places we work and can be&amp;nbsp;responsible for the downfall&amp;nbsp;of character,&amp;nbsp;pride and&amp;nbsp;a persons general outlook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Defeat can only be beaten by strength. That strength can be found in persistence,&amp;nbsp;concentration and even&amp;nbsp;ignorance. Every person large or small, young or old,&amp;nbsp;has the ability to overcome defeat for as strong as it may feel at times, it can be broken by will power, flexibility and&amp;nbsp;determination - just to name a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have the power within&amp;nbsp;us to win at anything&amp;nbsp;we do, for defeat is not so strong that it can't be broken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-3076949223685344483?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/3076949223685344483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=3076949223685344483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3076949223685344483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3076949223685344483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/strength-of-defeat.html' title='The Strength Of Defeat'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8358220098136208538</id><published>2009-09-21T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T15:11:10.441-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>A Generation Of Class</title><content type='html'>I spent&amp;nbsp;a good part of this past weekend attending the funeral of my wife's&amp;nbsp;aunt. She had outlived her husband and most of her friends and had&amp;nbsp;been in failing health for sometime.&amp;nbsp;My wife and her brother were the only family&amp;nbsp;she had left,&amp;nbsp;so we expected&amp;nbsp;a small private farewell. In fact, I expected no more than ten people to show up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't count, but I would say that over fifty people passed through the funeral home doors. And they not only&amp;nbsp;attended the wake, but they stayed for the funeral as well. Most of the people there were elderly, and many drove several hours just to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This not only says a lot about my wife's aunt, but also for her generation. When my generation gets that old and feeble, I'm not sure if many of my peers would brave a long drive into a&amp;nbsp;large city to&amp;nbsp;pay their last respects,&amp;nbsp;especially&amp;nbsp;when they wouldn't even know any of the survivors.&amp;nbsp;And I'm pretty sure that the generations after mine wouldn't even consider it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was part of&amp;nbsp;a generation that had class. A generation that is quickly being replaced by a much more self-serving one. And when my&amp;nbsp;age&amp;nbsp;group&amp;nbsp;becomes the next&amp;nbsp;set to fill up the nursing homes, a different and lower standard will be set, for&amp;nbsp;within the next twenty years the&amp;nbsp;elderly of this country will be&amp;nbsp;the generation that started the downward trend of putting "me" first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8358220098136208538?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8358220098136208538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8358220098136208538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8358220098136208538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8358220098136208538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/generation-of-class.html' title='A Generation Of Class'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-138191312229598177</id><published>2009-09-17T08:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T08:49:17.325-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Funeral Speakers</title><content type='html'>At many funerals, especially in which someone died young,&amp;nbsp;people will often&amp;nbsp;get up and speak about the deceased. When this happens, that speaker almost always ends up talking more about themselves than the person who just died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once asked to speak at a funeral and I made&amp;nbsp;a conscious&amp;nbsp;effort to not&amp;nbsp;talk about myself, but then discovered that the stories I had to tell about my friend,&amp;nbsp;were all stories that only the two&amp;nbsp;us shared, which&amp;nbsp;put the focus of&amp;nbsp;my tribute&amp;nbsp;on both of us instead of the one person that it should have been for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's great at a time of sorrow to hear stories from friends, but I think it might be interesting&amp;nbsp;to also&amp;nbsp;hear the thoughts of a casual observer. Maybe from someone who knew this person, but not as well. That way the deceased can be remembered by not only the&amp;nbsp;people they&amp;nbsp;were close too, but also as&amp;nbsp;the impression they made from afar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-138191312229598177?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/138191312229598177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=138191312229598177' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/138191312229598177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/138191312229598177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/funeral-speakers.html' title='Funeral Speakers'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8169546131769269519</id><published>2009-09-16T08:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-02T12:23:32.785-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>My Battle With Craig Virgin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I ran track in high school and when I was a sophomore I had the pleasure&amp;nbsp;to race&amp;nbsp;against the fastest runner in the country. His name was Craig Virgin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craig Virgin was the guy that&amp;nbsp;beat Steve Prefontaine's national outdoor 2-mile record by 1.5 seconds with a time of 8:41.05. As a runner for the University of Illinois Cross Country team, he was the 1975 NCAA Cross Country champion. He also qualified for the Olympics three times in the 10,000 meters just to name a few of his many accomplishments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although he had yet to break those records back in the spring of 1973, he was still considered at that time one of the fastest&amp;nbsp; runners in the United States.&amp;nbsp;This wasn't the first&amp;nbsp;race I had faced him. I had ran against him before in Cross Country in a big invitation meet in which he got first place and I finished about 150 runners behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I was decent in Cross Country. I was the third&amp;nbsp;or fourth man on our team, which meant that my position was very important in the scoring. However, in track, I was not so important. I ran the two mile and I rarely&amp;nbsp;placed better than fourth place. And on this particular day I was in the heat that had Craig Virgin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I was never a great track star, I was proud of the fact that a runner had never lapped me. I wanted to finish out my high school track career with that record still intact, but the odds didn't look good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in those days, running was all yards and miles, unlike the metric system which is used today. One lap was 440 yards and it took eight laps to run two miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the fastest runner in the country setting the pace, this meant that everyone in that heat would either run one of their better races or get burnt out really quick. The latter happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember at the mile mark, Craig Virgin was about a half a lap ahead of me and I could feel that&amp;nbsp;the fast&amp;nbsp;pace was&amp;nbsp;taking it's toll on me.&amp;nbsp;I felt like I was slowing down&amp;nbsp;with each lap and finally with&amp;nbsp;a little more than one lap to go, I could hear the crowd cheering&amp;nbsp;for the world's fastest man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With constant looks behind me, I could see him gaining. Then I could hear his fast footsteps. Even though, I&amp;nbsp;still had a little more than a lap to go before I finished, I was able to muster up a ten yard sprint.&amp;nbsp;It turned out&amp;nbsp;that Craig Virgin crossed the finished line at exactly the same time I was starting my last lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day Craig Virgin beat me by exactly 440 yards. However, he never lapped me, which has made that race one of the most important days of my high school track career.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8169546131769269519?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8169546131769269519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8169546131769269519' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8169546131769269519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8169546131769269519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-battle-with-craig-virgin.html' title='My Battle With Craig Virgin'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1232460613614654432</id><published>2009-09-15T09:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T12:42:38.608-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>From Youth To Now</title><content type='html'>All it takes is to hang out with younger people for a while to make you realize how much your own&amp;nbsp;ideals have changed over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often look back in embarrassment at all of the naive beliefs I had toward future goals, people and all of the wonderful ways&amp;nbsp;I could&amp;nbsp;make the world a better place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what happened between then and now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think for&amp;nbsp;many of us, we&amp;nbsp;get to a point where the demands of work, family and the trials and tribulations&amp;nbsp;of surviving another day&amp;nbsp;beat us down just&amp;nbsp;enough to give us a more realistic perspective. We notice that the things&amp;nbsp;we thought&amp;nbsp;unbreakable soon&amp;nbsp;develop cracks and the people we admired&amp;nbsp;are capable&amp;nbsp;of letting&amp;nbsp;us down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We&amp;nbsp;tend&amp;nbsp;to get&amp;nbsp;more selfish with our time, engery and money and find ourselves becoming something we never thought possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call it life. It happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1232460613614654432?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1232460613614654432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1232460613614654432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1232460613614654432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1232460613614654432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/from-youth-to-now.html' title='From Youth To Now'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-3938915242341577065</id><published>2009-09-14T09:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T13:05:59.672-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Short Ride Through Life</title><content type='html'>When walking through the halls of a nursing home, it's easy to forget that the old suffering people in the rooms all around were once vibrant human beings that laughed, loved, worked and played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of those&amp;nbsp;worn out bodies&amp;nbsp;have children to carry on their memories. Others don't. For them, they&amp;nbsp;are not only looking at the end of their lives, but also at the end of the line. All of their life long possessions have dwindled down to just the&amp;nbsp;necessities that will&amp;nbsp;fit in a space the size of a dorm room. Some&amp;nbsp;clothes, a small television, maybe a radio, or a bible and a few pictures of people that no one else knows is all that's left of a life once-lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When that person dies, Goodwill will get what it needs of their belongings, while the trash can will get the rest. And not only is&amp;nbsp;a life gone and forgotten, but the people and lives&amp;nbsp;in the memories of that person disappear as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually this will happen to all of us. That's why it's so important&amp;nbsp;to make an effort to enjoy&amp;nbsp;living&amp;nbsp;and all of the wonders that it brings.&amp;nbsp;Everyone gets&amp;nbsp;their time in&amp;nbsp;the cycle of life.&amp;nbsp;Take pleasure in it while you can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-3938915242341577065?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/3938915242341577065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=3938915242341577065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3938915242341577065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3938915242341577065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/short-ride-through-life.html' title='The Short Ride Through Life'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8035660498197819696</id><published>2009-09-13T15:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T15:00:57.973-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mike Show'/><title type='text'>The Mike Show: Episode 5 - My Name Is John, I Think</title><content type='html'>It's time for the fifth installment of The Mike Show. This is the segment of this blog where one can read actual dialog from my past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we go back to 1976. This story is going to sound like I'm trying to be funny, but I assure you, I'm not. What you are about to read actually happened. It might sound like a bad Abbott and Costello routine, but it's all true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a job working the graveyard shift at Kraft Foods. We had to&amp;nbsp;wear uniforms with name tags. Now my legal name is John, not Mike. (It's a long story, not worth explaining) Anyway, I tried to tell my supervisor that even though my legal name is John, I would like to be called Mike. So we went to get name tags and this is what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;SUPERVISOR:&lt;/em&gt; This is John, but he want's to be called Ron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NAME TAG GUY:&lt;/em&gt; I don't have any Ron name tags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; I'll just take John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Later, when my supervisor introduced me to my co-worker)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;SUPERVISOR:&lt;/em&gt; This is Ron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;CO-WORKER:&lt;/em&gt; Nice to meet you Don.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I later ran into a guy that I went to high school with and he knew me as Mike, so for four years everyone called me John, except my supervisor who called me Ron, the guy I worked with my first night who called my Don and the guy I went to high school with who called me Mike. So depending on who I was with,&amp;nbsp;for four years&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;answered to&amp;nbsp;John, Ron, Don and Mike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8035660498197819696?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8035660498197819696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8035660498197819696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8035660498197819696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8035660498197819696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/mike-show-episode-5-my-name-is-john-i.html' title='The Mike Show: Episode 5 - My Name Is John, I Think'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2828799330055664018</id><published>2009-09-11T08:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T08:05:23.351-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>A Name To Remember</title><content type='html'>Political gridlock not only has a new name, but now&amp;nbsp;also a&amp;nbsp;face. His name is Joe Wilson. He's a congressman out of South Carolina. It doesn't matter what party he represents. What he did, however, does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is the congressman that disrupted President Obama's health care speech Wednesday night when he shouted "you lie" at the president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the bottom line - the president is the Commander and Chief.&amp;nbsp;Nobody expects everyone to agree with every solution to every issue, but&amp;nbsp;I, as an American, need to believe&amp;nbsp;that our elected officials will try&amp;nbsp;to work in unison&amp;nbsp;for the sake of the country. Name calling or standing behind a certain&amp;nbsp;political party&amp;nbsp;is the last thing&amp;nbsp;America needs right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe Wilson has since apologized, but only after the true colors of gridlock showed it's&amp;nbsp;distructive face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So remember the name - Joe Wilson, for it's politicians like him, that care more about&amp;nbsp;their own&amp;nbsp;political party than the Americans he was elected to help. Shame on you, Mr. Wilson, and shame on all of you on&amp;nbsp;both sides that can't see past your own political agenda.&amp;nbsp;When will you people learn to put the American people ahead of yourselves?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2828799330055664018?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2828799330055664018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2828799330055664018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2828799330055664018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2828799330055664018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/name-to-remember.html' title='A Name To Remember'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2088564166720402071</id><published>2009-09-09T09:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T09:18:23.729-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Music Without Instruments</title><content type='html'>There is no need to have an iPod, CD player, radio or live&amp;nbsp;band to hear music. All one has to do is to listen to the sounds around them and hear a symphony of a different kind. And depending on where a person is, that concert can take&amp;nbsp;one anywhere from&amp;nbsp;imagination&amp;nbsp;to relaxation to contemplation to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether&amp;nbsp;it be a&amp;nbsp;thunder storm on a Friday night, birds singing&amp;nbsp;in the morning, children playing&amp;nbsp;in a park, the hum of a furnace or air conditioner, a dish washer, traffic, a conversation, stong wind or even silence, there is music all around at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And like traditional music, all is not to one's liking. A jackhammer, a baby crying, a loud muffler, sirens, dogs barking and other sounds&amp;nbsp;can often put one on edge - just like certain types of music can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the sounds of life - the oldest form of music, and they come in various&amp;nbsp;jingles for all of us to experience in any way we choose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2088564166720402071?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2088564166720402071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2088564166720402071' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2088564166720402071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2088564166720402071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/music-without-instruments.html' title='Music Without Instruments'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6293462304465668626</id><published>2009-09-07T10:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T23:06:21.704-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Fear of Bees</title><content type='html'>I have always been somewhat annoyed by people that are afraid of bees. I'm not&amp;nbsp;bothered by their fear, but more by their way of showing it. And they're all the same. They all tend to panic. They make noises and draw attention to themselves. And if anything, in their fit of anxiety, they seem to always bring the bees closer to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not one to criticize a persons phobias. Lord knows I have enough of them, but I have never understood this abrupt behavior change in mild mannered people&amp;nbsp;that only occurs when&amp;nbsp;bees show up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was stung by a bee for the first time in my life. I&amp;nbsp;figured if I ever got stung it would&amp;nbsp;feel like a shot does and sting&amp;nbsp;for a few seconds and then be done. I was not expecting that sting to&amp;nbsp;throb for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, that incident&amp;nbsp;hasn't added another phobia to my list, but instead, has made me&amp;nbsp;a little bit more tolerant when bees show up and the people around me go into complete panic mode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6293462304465668626?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6293462304465668626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6293462304465668626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6293462304465668626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6293462304465668626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/fear-of-bees.html' title='The Fear of Bees'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2397864469048859308</id><published>2009-09-06T08:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T16:43:17.734-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Farewell To My Little Boy</title><content type='html'>Two days ago on Friday, September 4, my wife and I had to make the painful decision to put our cat Willy to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To many, Willy wasn't the friendliest of cats. He was known to be a bully to strangers,&amp;nbsp;but to my wife and I,&amp;nbsp;he was the&amp;nbsp;sweetest. We saw a side of him that no one else did. That "tough guy" persona, I believe, was just an act to disguise his fear of everything.&amp;nbsp;And of all the&amp;nbsp;pets I've had in my lifetime, Willy was the lowest maintenance. He never begged for food and was always content with what he had in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abandon by his mother as a kitten, we took him in and became his adopted parents. He viewed&amp;nbsp;me as&amp;nbsp;his mother. Every night he would jump into bed with us and suck my finger until he fell asleep. As he got older, he replaced finger sucking with laying on his back with my hand on his stomach. A few months ago, when he got sick, he would revert back to finger sucking on occasions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willy&amp;nbsp;loved&amp;nbsp;following me all through the house from room to room just to be near me. He was definitely a mama's boy and through him, I, (a middle-aged male)&amp;nbsp;was given a glimpse of what it's like to have a bond between a mother and child. And although it is painful now,&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;am grateful for that experience. I am at peace knowing that he was loved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2397864469048859308?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2397864469048859308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2397864469048859308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2397864469048859308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2397864469048859308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/farewell-to-my-little-boy.html' title='Farewell To My Little Boy'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5350894110843269302</id><published>2009-09-05T09:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T17:16:30.615-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mike Show'/><title type='text'>The Mike Show: Episode 4 - The Japanese Tourist</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the fourth installment of The Mike Show. Here is where you can read actual dialog from my past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's adventure didn't really happen to me, but I was there and I witnessed it. The year was 1979 and I was living in New York City. I was at a bus stop waiting for the next bus. There was this elderly woman standing next to me. All of a sudden&amp;nbsp;this car full of Japanese men pulled up to us. Here is the actual dialog that took place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;JAPANESE MAN:&lt;/em&gt; Excuse me. Can you tell me where the Chrysler Building is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ELDERLY WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; You found Pearl Harbor, you can find the Chrysler Building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;JAPANESE MAN:&lt;/em&gt; Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The car drives off. Mike just stands there)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep checking The Mike Show part of this blog for more strange adventures from my past.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5350894110843269302?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5350894110843269302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5350894110843269302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5350894110843269302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5350894110843269302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/mike-show-episode-4-japanese-tourist.html' title='The Mike Show: Episode 4 - The Japanese Tourist'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6232056440082877870</id><published>2009-09-04T09:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T09:10:22.323-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'>The Art of the Excuse</title><content type='html'>I used to work with a guy that had so many off-the-wall excuses for being late or not coming to work,&amp;nbsp;that they just had to be true. Here are the few that I can remember. I am NOT making these up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&amp;nbsp;I was late because I dropped my contact in the cat litter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I was late because I couldn't hear the alarm because my daughter was throwing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I was late because it was my sons turn to set the alarm for&amp;nbsp;the whole family and he forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I won't be in today because last night I was chasing my kids and I&amp;nbsp;ran into&amp;nbsp;a tree branch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I can't come to work today because the whole family has parasites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I have to go home because my daughter has rocks stuck up her nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I won't be at work this week. I'm still in Texas. I was trying to take a short cut down this dirt road and I wrecked my car into a pack of wild pigs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6232056440082877870?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6232056440082877870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6232056440082877870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6232056440082877870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6232056440082877870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/art-of-excuse.html' title='The Art of the Excuse'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4725761298690318884</id><published>2009-09-03T09:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T10:22:18.930-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The 34 Year Old Kiss</title><content type='html'>Even being happily married, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't think about past relationships from time to time. I rarely think of any of the serious girlfriends I've had. Those thoughts are filled with so much grief and stupidity on my part that I'd rather block them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do think about on occasions, though, are the relationships that never quite materialized. There is one in particular that I have thought of over the years. She was a girl I went to high school with. We always had fun together in school and the summer after we graduated we went out on a handful of dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not a romantic relationship. If anything, it was more of a friendship. We laughed a lot and talked a lot and that's about it. However, that being said, at the end of each date, I distinctively remember walking her to her front door and kissing her goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's odd that I remember this because the kisses were really not that memorable. They lasted three or four seconds and neither one of us opened our mouths. It's not that we didn't know how to kiss. I'm sure she did and I had a girlfriend part of my senior year, so I had some experience in that department. The only reason I can think of for not kissing her longer and better was the fact that I was shy and insecure and knowing me, probably not sure if she wanted me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were young and it was the 1970's. The outside world was discovering artistic expression and sexual freedom. For me, however, I had yet to realize those things. My world was Gilligan's Island, Baseball cards, Mad Magazine and Jerry Lewis movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why now? Why now am I thinking about a four second, closed mouth kiss that happened only a handful of times way back in 1975?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's because those kisses, for me, represent the last summer of my innocence. It was that final harmless fling before me, probably her, and just about every sixteen to twenty year old at that time, were all thrown unprepared, head first into the wild, often painful world of sex, drugs and rock 'n roll that was the 1970's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the individual experiences that each of us would soon encounter, for better or for worse, would shape us all into&amp;nbsp;the people we are today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4725761298690318884?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4725761298690318884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4725761298690318884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4725761298690318884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4725761298690318884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/34-year-old-kiss.html' title='The 34 Year Old Kiss'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2869836691206038995</id><published>2009-09-02T14:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T14:22:28.733-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The One Way Street Called Meetings</title><content type='html'>Whether it be in a corporate conference room or a family kitchen, meetings are pretty much the same all over. They are frequently one person calling the shots and everyone else bowing down, whether they&amp;nbsp;agree or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the corporate world, it's often the person with the least talent&amp;nbsp;that does&amp;nbsp;most of the talking, before the brunt of the work falls into the hands of one or two&amp;nbsp;competent people that somehow manage to make the work of&amp;nbsp;a few,&amp;nbsp;look like a team effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the family setting, it's&amp;nbsp;often not&amp;nbsp;a case&amp;nbsp;of right or wrong, but more of a difference of opinion. And it's the one with the strongest passion, or hardest head&amp;nbsp;that usually wins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, when it comes to meetings - they are&amp;nbsp;many times&amp;nbsp;pointless, for depending on who is&amp;nbsp;involved,&amp;nbsp;two is often a crowd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2869836691206038995?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2869836691206038995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2869836691206038995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2869836691206038995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2869836691206038995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-way-street-called-meetings.html' title='The One Way Street Called Meetings'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-3948257172221944231</id><published>2009-09-01T09:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T09:22:23.581-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Riding The Wave</title><content type='html'>Life is full of peaks and valleys, ups and downs, joys and sorrows.&amp;nbsp;Somebodies high means somebody else's low. However, the tides change and roles reverse. If you're happy today, watch out for tomorrow and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all just part of the cycles of life. And without them, we never grow, or learn, or for that matter, live. After all,&amp;nbsp;who we are today,&amp;nbsp;is just&amp;nbsp;a reflection&amp;nbsp;of&amp;nbsp;what we experienced yesterday. And the more experiences - good&amp;nbsp;or bad, the wiser and stronger we become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great happiness makes sadness harder, but the harder the hurt is now, the stronger the joy&amp;nbsp;will&amp;nbsp;be&amp;nbsp;around the corner. There is really no choice in life. The wave is coming. Ride it. Fall off. Get back on. Learn and live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-3948257172221944231?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/3948257172221944231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=3948257172221944231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3948257172221944231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3948257172221944231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/09/riding-wave.html' title='Riding The Wave'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6025496587076814096</id><published>2009-08-31T13:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T18:08:48.294-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Communication: The Next Dinosaur</title><content type='html'>We do not live in our parents world. While technology has made&amp;nbsp;living easier,&amp;nbsp;it seems to have made&amp;nbsp;life more shallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Communication has taken on a new, almost distant form. People misread or misplace emails. They text instead of talk. And almost everyone becomes a stalker in one form or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We live in a modern world, but are we really living? People talk, but do they communicate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shy people of yesterday had to out grow their fears in order to survive and get ahead&amp;nbsp;in the world. Shy people of today often hide behind their computer and never learn proper&amp;nbsp;social skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this continues, just think of the obstacles that will never be overcome.&amp;nbsp;Think of&amp;nbsp;the people that will never meet or things that will never be invented, discovered or created. All because of good old-fashion communication - or lack of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6025496587076814096?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6025496587076814096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6025496587076814096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6025496587076814096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6025496587076814096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/communication-next-dinosaur.html' title='Communication: The Next Dinosaur'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-812402202011828508</id><published>2009-08-30T14:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T22:08:21.250-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>Sarah Palin, I'm Sorry, But...</title><content type='html'>This hurts, but I guess I owe Sarah Palin an apology. Here's the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she announced that she was leaving her position as governor of Alaska, I was convinced I knew why. I really thought it was because she was going to be on "Dancing with the Stars." It's the only thing that made&amp;nbsp;sense to me. I figured she would use that popular television show to build up a fan base before the next election. I was so sure of this, that I even made a bet with my wife. The loser would have to take the other one out to dinner at&amp;nbsp;this expensive restaurant that we both like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I lost the bet. Sarah Palin didn't stoop as low as I thought she would, and so for that, I apologize to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not one of these people that just jumps on the popular bandwagon. There&amp;nbsp;is only one person that has made me dislike Sarah Palin and that one person&amp;nbsp;is Sarah Palin. I watched with an open mind the vice-president debate, and what I saw made my jaw drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here was a woman that was&amp;nbsp;running for the second most important position in our country and she approached it with memorized answers and forced, down-home phrases that I'm sure were meant to be charming, but came across sleazy and uninformed. I felt like I was watching a woman who was running for student council and I found that very&amp;nbsp;disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the debate, it then appeared that she just wanted the spotlight. She reminded me (and still does) of a reality TV show contestant, which is why I figured her new strategy was "Dancing with the Stars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Sarah Palin, I'm sorry that I thought your&amp;nbsp;motives where below what they actually were. However, I will still never vote for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a firm believer in the phrase "never say never," but in the case of Sarah Palin, I&amp;nbsp;have made&amp;nbsp;an exception.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-812402202011828508?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/812402202011828508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=812402202011828508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/812402202011828508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/812402202011828508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/sarah-palin-im-sorry-but.html' title='Sarah Palin, I&apos;m Sorry, But...'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2224008492806695847</id><published>2009-08-29T14:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T14:45:17.045-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'>Five Things I Dislike About Facebook</title><content type='html'>1. People&amp;nbsp;that use it to proclaim their love to one another publicly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. People that put personal messages on your wall for everyone to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. People&amp;nbsp;that post the results of the games they played and think&amp;nbsp;someone actually cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. People that write cryptic messages that force you to ask them publicly what they are talking about, when all they had to do was talk about it in the first place, because that's all they wanted to do, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. People&amp;nbsp;that constantly bombard you with mundane things like "I'm going to bed now",&amp;nbsp;as if they think it really matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, the&amp;nbsp;problem is not Facebook, but rather the people that use it. People that I call my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2224008492806695847?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2224008492806695847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2224008492806695847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2224008492806695847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2224008492806695847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/five-things-i-dislike-about-facebook.html' title='Five Things I Dislike About Facebook'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8947514634819880668</id><published>2009-08-28T13:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T13:51:33.068-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Old Black Woman That Broke My Heart</title><content type='html'>I remember it was a rainy Friday. Just like today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was alone at work and this&amp;nbsp;sweet,&amp;nbsp;old black woman&amp;nbsp;stopped in with a video tape. She wanted a copy of it and asked if I could make her one. It was a slow day and I told her that I could do it immediately. She asked if she could wait. I told her that she could, but it takes real time to copy a video tape and if the tape is long&amp;nbsp;it could be a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That didn't bother her. She asked if she could watch the tape as I was copying it. I said yes and I went and got her a chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made her smile. She told me her son had died a week ago and this video tape was all she had left of him. She said all she&amp;nbsp;wanted to do was&amp;nbsp;to see his face and hear his voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was sad, but sweet. I was happy to help her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got everything ready and I started to record her tape. Her late son was not on it. Instead someone had taped a football game over the footage of her boy. When she realized what had happened she started to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of her from time to time and hope that she has found some peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8947514634819880668?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8947514634819880668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8947514634819880668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8947514634819880668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8947514634819880668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/old-black-woman-that-broke-my-heart.html' title='The Old Black Woman That Broke My Heart'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4698652358621619792</id><published>2009-08-27T14:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T08:26:40.334-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Distortion of Talent</title><content type='html'>It&amp;nbsp;appears anymore that&amp;nbsp;if a person doesn't have the&amp;nbsp;Simon Cowell stamp of approval then that person does not have talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the news media seems to believe this. The "Today Show" is the biggest culprit. On their "news" program they are&amp;nbsp;constantly bombarding the viewers with the latest reality show want-to-be that just "wowed" Simon Cowell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up America. Just because it's not on your television doesn't mean there is not&amp;nbsp;real talent out there. All one has to do is go to any karoke bar or watch live theatre in a large city or in a handful of regional theatres and you will find talent as good, if not better than what you'll often see in any of these televised ego-fest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;guarantee you that the greatest singer, actor, dancer, entertainer,&amp;nbsp;etc. is&amp;nbsp;someone&amp;nbsp;that the world has probably never&amp;nbsp;seen or&amp;nbsp;heard of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These televised "talent shows" might be entertainment to some, but are insulting&amp;nbsp;to the members of the&amp;nbsp;public that know how to appreciate real art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, some of these shows are fun to watch and many of the performers are quite good&amp;nbsp;- but as a guide to the most talented people in America? I don't think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4698652358621619792?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4698652358621619792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4698652358621619792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4698652358621619792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4698652358621619792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/distortion-of-talent.html' title='Distortion of Talent'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7320408212091382091</id><published>2009-08-26T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T15:07:35.770-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Words of Sympathy</title><content type='html'>When someone loses a loved one or is dealt a tragedy, people often feel the need to say something profound, soothing or meaningful. They do this not for selfish reasons, but because they genuinely care. People want to help and often feel that a kind&amp;nbsp;catch-phrase will make it all better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, though,&amp;nbsp;the presence of a friend&amp;nbsp;is&amp;nbsp;all the strength one needs, for often the best words are no words at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7320408212091382091?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7320408212091382091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7320408212091382091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7320408212091382091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7320408212091382091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/words-of-sympathy.html' title='Words of Sympathy'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8337600264206199483</id><published>2009-08-25T12:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T15:55:35.688-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>Why do people who believe in saving the environment often throw their cigarette butts on the ground when they're done smoking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why&amp;nbsp;do really smart people often have no common sense?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people&amp;nbsp;put&amp;nbsp;celebrities and athletes on a pedestal and act as if&amp;nbsp;they&amp;nbsp;are more special than their own self?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people want to be like everyone else instead of celebrating their own individuality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it matter to many people&amp;nbsp;what others think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are you reading this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8337600264206199483?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8337600264206199483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8337600264206199483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8337600264206199483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8337600264206199483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8877410221158954188</id><published>2009-08-24T09:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T09:14:03.707-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Initial That</title><content type='html'>I work for a company that goes by the initials PPG. On any given day I might talk with someone from ISA, DDB, PII, HK,&amp;nbsp;NCSA, IPI,&amp;nbsp;DGS or U of I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I go home at night I can&amp;nbsp;turn on my TV and watch&amp;nbsp;CSI, NCIS, AFI, DWTS, CSI:NY, NFL or P.O.V. Or I could put a VHS in my VCR if I don't watch a DVD, DVR or listen to a CD, or AM / FM radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get on the internet I read words like&amp;nbsp;LOL, OMG, WTF, FB, MFT, BFF, BTW, THX or TTLY, just to name a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has always been about short-cuts. And now that attitude has finally invaded the English language. It will be interesting to see what lies in the future of the spoken and written word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8877410221158954188?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8877410221158954188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8877410221158954188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8877410221158954188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8877410221158954188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/initial-that.html' title='Initial That'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8788227870401360916</id><published>2009-08-22T10:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T08:38:30.074-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mike Show'/><title type='text'>The Mike Show: Episode 3 - The Pick Up</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the third installment of The Mike Show. This is where you can read actual scenes from my past. I only include the strange ones, so sit back and enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's episode takes place in 1981. I was living in New York City. I had nothing to do this particular evening, so I went to visit my friend Gus the bartender at the bar where he worked. I was sitting at the bar and I noticed this woman&amp;nbsp;alone in the booth behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was getting ready to leave for the night, when this woman bought me a drink. I went over to thank her and ended up sharing several more drinks with her. It was getting late and she asked if I could walk her home. I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to her apartment and she asked if I wanted to come up. I did. We got in the elevator and went to her room on the 11th floor. This is what happened in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Mike puts his arms around the&amp;nbsp;woman and kisses her. She kisses him back. They kiss some more. Then all of a sudden...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; Get out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; You heard me. Get out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What's wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;Get out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What'd I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; If you don't leave I'll start screaming!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; I'm serious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; I'll scream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE: &lt;/em&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The&amp;nbsp;woman starts screaming at the top of her lungs)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Okay, okay. I'm leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Mike&amp;nbsp;leaves her apartment&amp;nbsp;and waits for the elevator. All of a sudden the&amp;nbsp;woman opens her door)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; Sunday night. Eight o'clock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The&amp;nbsp;woman slams the door. Mike doesn't wait for the elevator. He takes the stairs and runs home)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True story and the dialog is as close to word for word as I can remember. I never saw her again. I don't know what would have happened that Sunday night at eight o'clock, but my guess&amp;nbsp;is that I would either be dead or on Candid Camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to the freak show of my past. Stay tuned to this blog&amp;nbsp;for more episodes of The Mike Show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8788227870401360916?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8788227870401360916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8788227870401360916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8788227870401360916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8788227870401360916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/mike-show-episode-3-pick-up.html' title='The Mike Show: Episode 3 - The Pick Up'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1376946982559264135</id><published>2009-08-21T08:39:00.023-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T20:07:56.234-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>My Way</title><content type='html'>"I did it my way," is a popular phrase that many people not only love to believe in, but also claim to live by. Unless a person is a hermit, though, I doubt if many people really live life "their way" all of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger it was cool to hear Frank Sinatra sing "My Way," and say to myself, "that's how I'm going to live."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, saying and doing are two different things. I have a job, friends, outside interests and family obligations that often force me to make compromises in how I think and do things. These compromises often bring me pleasant surprises and have taught me lessons in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One lesson I've learned is that if you are a responsible spouse, friend, parent, child, sibling, boss or employee, you can't always do things "your way," and is that really such a bad thing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1376946982559264135?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1376946982559264135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1376946982559264135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1376946982559264135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1376946982559264135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-way.html' title='My Way'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7413277650892388283</id><published>2009-08-20T08:17:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T09:13:16.546-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Making a Comeback</title><content type='html'>It seems like every week either an actor, athlete or politician is making a comeback in some form or another. Whether it's from heal to hero, or from fame to obscurity and back to fame again, the public can't seem to get enough of a good comeback tale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What people don't seem to realize, though, is that comebacks aren't just limited to people in the spotlight. Average folks make them too. And they do it all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do it in their jobs when they make a huge mistake one month and years later are given a sign of confidence with either a raise or promotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do it in their families when selfish acts or words create distance between parents or siblings and an act of kindness or family tragedy replaces those feelings with forgiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do it in life when they strike out in love, work or play and then later come back with a home run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making comebacks is part of the human spirit and is an inner force within all of us in this unpredictable world of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7413277650892388283?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7413277650892388283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7413277650892388283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7413277650892388283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7413277650892388283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/making-comeback.html' title='Making a Comeback'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5946259882359914516</id><published>2009-08-19T10:13:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T08:53:31.583-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Graveyard Visitor</title><content type='html'>My father died ten years ago today. I don't think losing a parent is anything that people ever completely recover from. Instead, we get by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've visited his grave several times in the past ten years. The first couple of years I could feel his presence. Not so much anymore. Maybe that's all part of the healing process. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do know is that on many of those visits I am not alone. I am usually joined by this irritating little fly. It's not even a fly, it's more like a gnat. It flies around my face and I have to shoo it away with my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes this strange is that this gnat appears only when I visit my fathers grave. It doesn't matter the season, whether it is the middle of summer or the dead of winter, I can count on that gnat being there most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This often makes me wonder if that bug is actually some form of my father somehow trying to communicate with me. It's a silly thought, but one that gives me comfort.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5946259882359914516?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5946259882359914516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5946259882359914516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5946259882359914516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5946259882359914516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/graveyard-visitor.html' title='The Graveyard Visitor'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1868336877882111545</id><published>2009-08-18T12:30:00.028-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T08:31:15.287-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Why I Do This</title><content type='html'>Since writing this blog I have been reading other blogs and am now convinced that there are more bad writers writing today than ever before. Blogging encourages it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was kid, writers had diaries and they were for no one to read but the writer. There was a reason for that. The diaries were either extremely personal or incredibly boring. Either way, the contents weren't appropriate to share with the world. Today it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure every blogger thinks that what they have to say is important. Otherwise, why would they write it? I have felt that way on occassions, but then I will read a blog that is so eloquently written that I'm suddenly cut down to size and instantly feel common and shallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do I continue? Well, for me, it's a mental exercise. It keeps my mind, memory and writing skills, or lack of, sharp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the main reason I blog, though, is because it's a record of who I am and what I think. People who don't know me can get to know me better. And the ones that do know me will maybe understand why I am the way I am. It's a record of me that can be passed through my family to generations to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that this blog can't hold a candle to other blogs out there. Many others, but it is what it is and it is part of who I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1868336877882111545?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1868336877882111545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1868336877882111545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1868336877882111545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1868336877882111545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-i-do-this.html' title='Why I Do This'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7829671343155160148</id><published>2009-08-17T08:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T15:56:40.161-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>The Things That Live On</title><content type='html'>History has shown that nothing last forever. However, it's safe to say that Coca Cola, people using religion to promote hatred, and the Three Stooges are certainly making a run for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this continues, it appears that my great-grandchildren will be able to enjoy a nice soft drink while living in a world where hipocrites rule and getting hit on the head is funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the generations, no matter how different, will continue to have things in common.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7829671343155160148?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7829671343155160148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7829671343155160148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7829671343155160148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7829671343155160148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/things-that-live-on.html' title='The Things That Live On'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1517250108035060203</id><published>2009-08-16T10:25:00.021-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T08:41:56.058-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Scent of an Era</title><content type='html'>I grew up about six blocks from the University of Illinois campus and even though we weren't supposed to travel outside of our neighborhood, we often did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a young teenager in the early 1970's, my favorite places to go were the black light poster shops on Green Street. I was fascinated by the glow in the dark peace signs, the R. Crumb comic books and the incense that smelled exactly the same in each shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was around the age of eighteen I attended my first party where marijuana made an appearance. And it was at that party that I realized for the first time that it wasn't incense I was smelling in those shops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to notice that smell everywhere - on the clothes of my friends, in the bathrooms of bars and even in the breeze from a park where I'd be relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People tend to remember the music, clothes and attitudes of the 1970's. I happened to remember what that decade smelled like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1517250108035060203?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1517250108035060203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1517250108035060203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1517250108035060203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1517250108035060203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/smell-of-era.html' title='The Scent of an Era'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8254958006153569277</id><published>2009-08-15T09:45:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T08:48:01.418-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mike Show'/><title type='text'>The Mike Show: Episode 2 - Boy on the Bus</title><content type='html'>It's time for another look back into the strange world of bizarre occurrences that have plagued me my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around 1976. I was on a bus to Tennessee to visit an old friend. The bus stopped somewhere in southern Illinois to pick up more passengers. A mentally retarded boy got on the bus and sat next to me. (I know that "mentally challenged" is the politically correct way to describe this boy, but this was 1976 and we did not talk like that back then).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is what happened about thirty minutes into the ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BOY:&lt;/em&gt; You have nice hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Uh...thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BOY:&lt;/em&gt; Can I pet your hair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Uh...ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The boy starts petting Mike's hair)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BOY:&lt;/em&gt; I don't feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The boy throws up all over Mike)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Uh...bus driver?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This true story is just a small clip from my life and there are many more to come. Just keep checking this blog for The Mike Show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8254958006153569277?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8254958006153569277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8254958006153569277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8254958006153569277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8254958006153569277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/mike-show-episode-2-boy-on-bus.html' title='The Mike Show: Episode 2 - Boy on the Bus'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1998795167018616200</id><published>2009-08-14T08:39:00.025-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T08:50:55.930-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Remembering That First Regret</title><content type='html'>Show me someone that has no regrets and I'll show you a liar, or a person that has learned nothing in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had several regrets over the years. If it wasn't over something I said, didn't say, did or didn't do, then it was a choice made or ignored that ended up with feelings damaged or opportunities lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was ten years old when I made a choice that has bothered me ever since. That's a little young to make a mistake that I still remember, but I did, and I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a boy who lived next door to me whose family was moving to Texas. This boy and I were friends, but somewhere within that friendship we had a disagreement that led the two of us to stop speaking to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the day he left town he was standing in his yard and I was in mine. We hadn't spoken to each other in over a week. I wanted to talk to him and I sensed that he wanted to talk to me, but neither one of us was man enough to make the first move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on my swing set, while he just stared at me from across the fence. I remember thinking that this silent treatment was stupid and yet I did nothing about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was lunch time and I remember going inside my house for a sandwich and when I came back outside, this boy and his family had left Illinois for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt bad that we didn't talk, especially when I knew that we both wanted too. Now forty-two years later, I still feel bad. I have asked myself "Why?" over the years, but there is no answer when stuborn pride is involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wasn't the biggest regret of my life, but it's my oldest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Robert Blackerbee, should you by any chance ever stumble upon this blog, please know that never saying goodbye to you has haunted me to this day. I don't remember what came between us, but I am sincerly sorry. Hope your life is good. - Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1998795167018616200?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1998795167018616200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1998795167018616200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1998795167018616200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1998795167018616200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/remembering-that-first-regret.html' title='Remembering That First Regret'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-3385355869780246071</id><published>2009-08-13T08:29:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:37:51.970-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Ego</title><content type='html'>Everyone has an ego in one form or another. One ego will go with the flow as if it is made of rubber, while the other gets bruised easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some are born out of confidence and some out of insecurity. One is poised, assured and in control. The other - loud, arrogant and condescending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both evolve from upbringing, past experiences, successes and failures. There is a fine line between the two. A fine line that is often crossed by both, but never for very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One ego grows and learns from the lessons of life. The other wallows in self pity and is always looking for someone or something to blame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which ego do you have?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-3385355869780246071?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/3385355869780246071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=3385355869780246071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3385355869780246071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/3385355869780246071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/ego.html' title='Ego'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-608220160246722868</id><published>2009-08-12T07:49:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:37:23.271-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Had They Been Born Today</title><content type='html'>I often wonder if certain popular figures of the past had been born today what would they be doing. Chances are that being born under different circumstances and time periods many of them wouldn't be famous - or at least as famous as they are now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example Bonnie and Clyde, the notorious bank robbers of the great depression. Their crimes were driven by their egos which were magnified by the media. Had they been born today I don't believe they would have robbed banks. No, I think they would have become reality TV stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about Mark Twain and Will Rogers? They were two of the most popular humorist of their time. However, would they have the same success in a more modern world? I don't think so. They would both still have been admired, but only as college professors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's Davy Jones, the lead singer of the popular 1960's band The Monkees. In his day he made the hearts of my female sixth grade classmates flutter. Had he been born today? Well...I actually think he'd still be a teen idol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-608220160246722868?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/608220160246722868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=608220160246722868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/608220160246722868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/608220160246722868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/had-they-been-born-today.html' title='Had They Been Born Today'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6810495260440566870</id><published>2009-08-11T08:24:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:36:56.792-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>Why I Voted for Gerald Ford</title><content type='html'>Although my views tend to slant towards the liberal side, I have never considered myself a Democrat or a Republican. I tend to vote for the person and not the party and have been both pleased and disappointed in the political choices I've made over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1976 (my first election) I voted for the non-popular choice for president - Republican Gerald Ford and have been ridiculed for that decision ever since. However, I still stand by my choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time, I was probably more of a Democrat than anything else. Eight years eariler, my sixth grade class held a mock election between the presidential candidates (Nixon and Humphrey) and I gave an emotional speech on why Hubert Humphrey was the better choice. If I remember right, I believe I said something "original" and compared him to Abraham Lincoln.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was finally old enough to vote, the Democrats had another "Lincoln like" candidate in Jimmy Carter. I liked what Carter stood for, but felt that he was to gentle to be a world leader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I liked the guy that everyone else hated - Gerald Ford. I believed then and I believe now that he was disliked not because of anything he did, but because he represented the same party that brought us Nixon and the Watergate scandal. The election had nothing to do with Gerald Ford and everything to do with Richard Nixon. The country wanted the memory of Watergate erased and in the voters eyes - Jimmy Carter was that eraser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gerald Ford was given two years in the White House before the public voted him out. Two years does not make a proper presidency, but what Ford did in his two years in office was something many presidents have trouble doing in four. He brought trust back to the highest office there is at a time when the country really needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me that says a lot and is the reason why I voted for him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6810495260440566870?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6810495260440566870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6810495260440566870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6810495260440566870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6810495260440566870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-i-voted-for-gerald-ford.html' title='Why I Voted for Gerald Ford'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4524842837186905040</id><published>2009-08-10T08:20:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T18:20:00.281-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'>Life Lessons Learned in Strip Joints</title><content type='html'>1. Never make eye contact with someone who scares you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If it's easy - it's not worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Negotiation will get you everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. When someone asks you for a dance there are usually ulterior motives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Always wash your hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4524842837186905040?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4524842837186905040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4524842837186905040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4524842837186905040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4524842837186905040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-lessons-learned-in-strip-joints.html' title='Life Lessons Learned in Strip Joints'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2303500097849124649</id><published>2009-08-09T09:07:00.023-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T10:23:45.714-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>One Blind Mouse</title><content type='html'>It happened during the summer of 2005. My wife and I were driving home from a Florida vacation&amp;nbsp;when I noticed my right eye would not focus. As the day wore on, it not only got worse, but my blurry vision turned into a kaleidoscope of colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home I called the eye doctor and was told to come to his office immediately. Within ten minutes after I arrived at the eye clinic I was in surgery for a detached retina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was later discovered that I also had Glaucoma, an incurable eye disease that can lead to blindness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now on medication for the rest of my life and have also had Cataract surgery to replace the lense in my right eye. All of this has helped, but when I open a book and sometimes see only blank pages, need a magnifying glass to read a restaurant menu, or am driving and have trouble seeing the white lines on the road, I realize that I am at war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The medication has stabilized my illness for now. I have good days and bad. The good ones - I am never aware that there is a problem. The bad, however, remind me of how fragile my eyes are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm okay with the possibility of someday losing my fight to see. I don't want that to happen, but I have known people in my lifetime that have lost bigger battles. I've seen first hand friends and family members courageously tackle Cancer, AIDS, Diabetes, Alzheimer's, Multiple Scierosis, Bulimia and drug addiction. So if it happens that blindness is my cross to bare, well then...bring it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2303500097849124649?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2303500097849124649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2303500097849124649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2303500097849124649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2303500097849124649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-blind-mouse.html' title='One Blind Mouse'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-2950666609759600371</id><published>2009-08-08T21:32:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T08:33:25.427-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mike Show'/><title type='text'>The Mike Show : Episode 1 - The Crazy Lady</title><content type='html'>Sometimes scenes from my life flash by me like a clip from an old television show. There is no rhyme or reason as to which segment from my life will pop up. Ususally it's something crazy that just happened out of the blue. When this occurs I try to remember the dialog as close to word for word as I can, so as to take myself on a brief trip back in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following is one of those strange mental clips that suddenly appeared in the front row of my memory. This is a true story. Warning. It has no beginning, middle or end. It is what it is, and what it is...actually happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around 1980 or '81. I was living in New York City and minding my own business walking down Broadway on my way home from work, when this woman approached me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; Stop it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; You heard me. Stop it! Stop it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Stop what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WOMAN:&lt;/em&gt; You're raping me with your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The woman then punches Mike in the Stomach several times)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MIKE:&lt;/em&gt; Owwww!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to one brief flash of my life. There are many more, just as strange. I will post more of these from time to time. Why? I don't know. They're just mental clips from the television show that is my life. I call it The Mike Show. Stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-2950666609759600371?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/2950666609759600371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=2950666609759600371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2950666609759600371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/2950666609759600371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/mike-show-episode-1-crazy-lady_08.html' title='The Mike Show : Episode 1 - The Crazy Lady'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6736708865317185727</id><published>2009-08-07T09:44:00.030-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:55:41.010-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>The Quest for Normal</title><content type='html'>Growing up I always felt like the odd ball of the family - the one that never quite fit in. I was fine with that title because I was always more comfortable in my own world then in the one in which I lived. It's not that I didn't get along with everyone. For the most part I did, but for whatever reason, I always felt like the outsider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame anyone for this. You can't help the way you feel and I always felt just a little disconnected from the rest. However, the older I got and the more aware I became of the behavior of others, I realized that when it came to my family - I was the normal one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I met my wife. Her family made mine look like a Norman Rockwell painting. Well...not quite. Let's just say that they took strange behavior to levels that I had yet to experience. Then again, some of their antics were nothing compared to the off-the-wall co-workers, bosses and clients that I would have to deal with in the coming years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what exactly is normal? Maybe it's time to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the dictionary, normal means, "&lt;em&gt;refers to a lack of significant deviation from the average&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. So...what is average? My same source tells me that average is, "&lt;em&gt;the typical normal amount of quality&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I dare look up quality? I don't think so. All of this will probably just lead me in circles. Anyway, do I really need to find out that after all these years I'm probably not as normal as I think I am?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6736708865317185727?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6736708865317185727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6736708865317185727' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6736708865317185727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6736708865317185727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/quest-for-normal.html' title='The Quest for Normal'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-6100176264292919468</id><published>2009-08-06T10:40:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:35:28.688-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>Vocabulary Complications</title><content type='html'>Words can sometimes take on a life of their own. And depending on which word, who is using it, and the context in which it is presented, that word can have all kinds of meanings and uses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to politicians and the media, there are now two words that seem to only mean one thing, and when one uses those words, one should be prepared for the avalanche of name calling and arguments that will soon follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those two words are "liberal" and "conservative." You can't link yourself to one of those words without someone getting bent out of shape. The reality of the situation, though, is that most people are a little bit of both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave it to the government leaders and the reporters of news to have tunnel vision when it comes to two words that if approached with a little openness, could just very well lead to some form of partial unity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-6100176264292919468?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/6100176264292919468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=6100176264292919468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6100176264292919468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/6100176264292919468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/vocabulary-of-politics.html' title='Vocabulary Complications'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-7483611578539819838</id><published>2009-08-05T11:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:56:07.889-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Ladies Man</title><content type='html'>I have a history of clumsiness with the opposite sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From calling someone the wrong name during an intimate moment, to popping a wine cork at point blank range into the forehead of my date - I've done it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can trace this inept behavior all the way back to my very first kiss. I couldn't tell you what my date and I did throughout the course of the evening, but I remember to this day how it ended. It was my first kiss. How could I forget?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was winter and cold. At the end of the evening we pulled into her drive way, got out of the car and together walked to her front door. After some awkward small talk, I leaned into kiss her, but the collar of my coat somehow ended up between my lips and hers and I found myself kissing my own coat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so caught up in my own adolescent bliss that I didn't realize this until I was almost half way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'd say it's safe to say that women have talked about me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-7483611578539819838?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/7483611578539819838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=7483611578539819838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7483611578539819838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/7483611578539819838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/ladies-man.html' title='Ladies Man'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4709861789468629524</id><published>2009-08-04T13:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:21:42.982-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'>Five Random Thoughts</title><content type='html'>1. You never realize how shallow and self-centered some people are until they become your friends on Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. It's interesting that when a major celebrity dies, no other news seems to happen that week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I believe that George W. Bush was in way over his head as President of the United States, but I think he would have made a fine Commissioner of Baseball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do Amish people ever suffer from stress?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. With all of today's modern technology, the dentistry profession still seems very primitive to me. One would think that by now someone would have figured out a way to work inside a person's mouth without that person practically being upside down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4709861789468629524?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4709861789468629524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4709861789468629524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4709861789468629524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4709861789468629524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/five-random-thoughts.html' title='Five Random Thoughts'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-4504632845572564293</id><published>2009-08-03T09:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:34:06.740-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>Heaven: Not as Crowded as One Might Think</title><content type='html'>Why is it that when somebody dies everyone just assumes that their soul went to Heaven?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happens a lot. You hear statements like "our loss is Heaven's gain," or something to that effect. And many times that is being said about someone who spent their time on this Earth constantly putting their own selfish needs before others with no regard of whom they may have hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have some unsettling news for good people who die and are expecting to see their loved ones in Heaven. I'm not sure they all made it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-4504632845572564293?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/4504632845572564293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=4504632845572564293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4504632845572564293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/4504632845572564293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/heaven-not-as-crowded-as-one-might.html' title='Heaven: Not as Crowded as One Might Think'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-8728299103443632663</id><published>2009-08-02T13:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:56:35.986-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Reflections on a Life Still Living</title><content type='html'>Even if I'm lucky enough to live to be one hundred, at fifty two years of age, whether I like it or not, my life is more than half over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how am I doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my brain isn't fried like a few people I know. I've been married to only one person and plan to stay that way, which is something many of my peers can't say. And despite being pulled in countless directions by family, friends and the many creative endeavors that I pursue, I have still managed to laugh, learn and be productive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad life if you can get it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-8728299103443632663?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/8728299103443632663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=8728299103443632663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8728299103443632663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/8728299103443632663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/08/reflections-on-life-still-living.html' title='Reflections on a Life Still Living'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-1662443563632928716</id><published>2009-08-01T08:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T16:30:35.913-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who I am'/><title type='text'>Continuing the Ideals of Our Fathers</title><content type='html'>In the 1920's, my grandfather left the slums of Sicily and came to this country searching for a better life. When he died, he could barely speak English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the 1950's, my other grandfather was so determined to change the horrific working conditions on his job, that he organized the first union in Champaign County. His efforts landed him in jail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own father believed that hard work and dedication were all you needed to succeed in life. He was proven wrong when the company he had dedicated his life to for over thirty years was sold and he was let go - losing more than half of his hard earned retirement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the efforts of those three men, I not only have it easier, but I am also wiser and internally richer. And the only way I know how to thank them is to take the lessons they taught me and use them to continue to pursue their dream of a better life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-1662443563632928716?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/1662443563632928716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=1662443563632928716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1662443563632928716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/1662443563632928716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2009/07/continuing-ideals-of-our-fathers.html' title='Continuing the Ideals of Our Fathers'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1554876490395698230.post-5954678851038936637</id><published>2008-11-04T13:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:32:27.873-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>Jim Crow, Uncle Tom and Me</title><content type='html'>I was one of seven white people standing in a forty-five minute line today to cast my vote for our next president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I looked at the faces of the black voters in line, I couldn't help but see a part of my country's history within the eyes of the people around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Frederick Douglass, Hattie McDaniel, Herman Perry and the 849th Battalion, Dorothy Dandridge and Jackie Robinson. I saw Dred Scott, Rosa Parks, Buckwheat, Shirley Chisholm and that man with the dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I stood, a minoity in that line, I never once felt that race was the reason we were all voting. What I felt instead, was a positive energy filled with hope, courage, change, and the importance of history, both past and future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1554876490395698230-5954678851038936637?l=tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/feeds/5954678851038936637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1554876490395698230&amp;postID=5954678851038936637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5954678851038936637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1554876490395698230/posts/default/5954678851038936637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tontin-themikeshow.blogspot.com/2008/11/jim-crow-uncle-tom-and-me.html' title='Jim Crow, Uncle Tom and Me'/><author><name>Mike Trippiedi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05243527939805228820</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e1HAIKk15V8/SnLv4wa1MBI/AAAAAAAAAA0/udJIiVjyw9E/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
